to what ends has left the tangled ties that weave the scheme across the metaphorical dreams of children longing to achieve greatness. i feel unaware of the want to be that sends the sensation through the machines of failing human beings. i want what i already had to give away whilhe this remians an unorganized piece of the puzzle that only sees its componets and not the entireity of the picture of what this all would mean if it could reach a conclusion which to continue from until their is no need to leave the space surrounding you as time bends and folds around your edges as existance at the touch of a hand to matter, too matter anything more than the profain stands against everything you rightfully are and deserve to let yourself be.