the broken, beautiful familiar.

A typical night resulted in a feeling of unfamiliarity with myself;
that song you adored no longer made me cry
as I drove down a familiar road where
the wind caused those little hairs on my head to tickle my face
as they interacted with the breeze.
I drove in the twilight and wondered about things
intangible, invisible, and abstract,
while maintaining a composure
that was a complete juxtaposition of myself.
I thought about the tree rooted in the unseen
because now it’s growing a different direction-
but the king has maintained a hold of it’s new nature
despite the constant forces it endures.
Such things like this have crossed my mind
more frequently than ever;
I want to accept change and dispose of comfort,
yet my thoughts are jumbled
but simultaneously so easily put together.
What started as a song became a metaphor
and what started as a seed became so lovely.

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