Corey Ridge
Novo
Trembling, I consider, all there is to be
A cleansing needs to take its place, deep inside of me
Wallowing; I try to feel, to think, to breathe, and to grow
Yet my shadow overwhelms me, and everything I know
This cognition fights to plague me, and all that could have been
Shedding all I thought was true, overcoming the delusion
A metamorphosis occurring, bleeding out what isn’t pure
A hole is left and gaping, now I’m rendered insecure
This change can only further what’s left and what should be
Outliving this chaotic sense of atrophy