The slip from

Unopened gates of a world I had lived

Was not particularly the hardest

 

More so was the descent, where I found time

Seconds counted in decades

To swallow the misgivings

Bloomed as my fallen feathers

And the certainty

Of this

My decision.

 

My skirt grasps the falling winds of January.

It pulls me into the next

My new home

Where flesh burns with fire

And light is abruptly consumed

In a descending spiral

Synonymous to my revolt once again status quo

Though in this proveb

No angels dive in my stead.

 

Impact

Is definite

And whether this was the choice

That led to the optimal ending, I will only know.

 

New Year snow is the flame.

The school bus pulls into the drive by the gym

And it is the

Shadow.