I once thought I was done
I washed all my troubles
Mowed all my worries

But seems

All trouble with me still rumbles
All worries in me are weary than ever
It’s not a question of me finding
Or rather that of allowing
Myself to be as clean as ever
But it is that questions
Whether I will find my perfect form

I feel I’m so torn
Everything I do. so wrong
Everything I say …so raw and lacking life
I used to think I was fine

But still

Anger inhabits in my fists
Hatred devours my heart
And anxiety darks my days

Will I find …my perfect form
This was after the raw deal of death
It was after sickness succumbed
All life in me
It was after the feisty fight
The one I lost
Along with my voice

I’m not done yet
Still seeking forms
To perfect my life