Convinced truths, 
Lies so pleasing they tell themselves, 
Stand tall as mountains between us,
The words escaping my frigid hold,
Before their truth can melt my glacial harbour,
Mountains only I can move. 

An inevitable storm approaches, 
And it cannot be tamed, 
Despite my best efforts at evasion, 
Feigning oblivion to those mountains,
Replaying moments I should enjoy 
With a weight heavy in my chest. 

The little seed grows inside me,
Suppressed thoughts imploding,
Threatening to erupt,
Dreading the fateful day they give in, 
Yet also half waiting for it,
An apocalypse brews,
And I disappear into myself to cage it. 

Leaps of faith,
Consequences,
Second thoughts,
And thirds,
I always knew I’d someday be the person 
Whose stories you tell new people,
But as the vision gradually shifts,
I am no longer the one listening.