This poet thing is nice-- enticing, if you will. But I'm stuck in a box of rhyme scheme where same patterns still refill. Perhaps if I stretch and pull my edges-- yank my mind, twist my intentions... Ah, here we are. It is fair to say I'm lost again, dizzied by the trivial and significant, undecisive of their weight on me; but they certianly are weighing me down. Please don't ask to help me, You'll only make me cry. She hugged me so long, however awkward, I fought back so hard the tear boiling to my eye. And as I got in the car and drove away to the troubleland I reshaped my worries to small. Now I've got armor, a battle plan, a goal, and my hero who keeps me kind and whole.