Autobiography

I'm no lover like you've known, i won't hang on words by phone
I'm the winged and the wandering and the walking on my own
I'm the mocker of the minds, the talker of the times
the singer of the songs i write in moments of divine
invigorating ecstasy, or captivating fantasy
or simply in the seconds i spend captured in ascendancy
This seamstress seems to stress the seams of the fabric of design
The pull of truth from the lull of youth that keeps us intertwined.
Bending rules, spent with fools, I hear but can't expire
Spinning spools of sinnings, who knows what i've conspired.
Seeking light in light of dark, sparkling sights which I embark
Petals pulled, though love-me-not, the scent is gone and you forgot
Feathers drop, a sad reminder, she's long gone... you'll never find her
I'm the river, a journey to sea, forever learning...epitoMe.