A resolve of a beautiful imperfection,
Speculated by pessimistic perceptions.
A road with two branches unite at the dreaded end,
Your feebleminded conscience unwilling to accept it.
Fear tangible within its vaporous margin,
The untouched earth unscathed.
Purple skies softly pulsing,
The blunt edges absorbed by an inferior sliver of blue.
The two clock hands suspended in the past,
Frozen stiffly by will.
The twins distrusting of themselves,
Determined to prove the image in the mirror wrong.
A painful skin deep cut,
The culprit blissfully unaware of their thoughtlessness.
Handprints in the sand,
Replaced with footprints.