i forget the start
something to do with making a pattern
connecting dot to dot
why else would i be so far down here
maybe i should write a poem
of the mystery that lies before me
something to do with wide eyed hope
a challenge so grand
that only i could conquer
or conjure?
this great ride that i find im on
as days pass through me
soon ill see why it was that i started
....when i reach the end
instead i wrote a prose
for a rose is a rose is a rose
by any name,
not smell so sweet
or something
it is lost
finished piecing up my puzzle
fitting prominence unto gap
and so am i
a picture shown
complete now forever more
so simple
so open
so closed by hand
a life thats riddled
by complex prisms
a total lack of meaning
so pretty
so simple
so lost
a word