All this time I thought my perspective was unique
and I loved my subjective technique.
I think this was actually a defective way to critique
what I recollected as false truths at which I unearthed a peek.
I was wrong. There was no integrity in my uniqueness.
This perspective has done little more than make me king of semantics.
It's highly infective to whittle things down to level that's manic
The directive I want is an acquittal to anything synthetic.
I step back to realize that I look at life through a broken lens
and it makes the pain abscise and the emptiness get intense.
It sends me back to reprise the strife that my adoption has condensed
because I want my birth mother to authorize and pay the debt her absence has expensed.
I was wrong. My loss is accentuated by her weakness.
That broken lens needed more depth than those nurses could have foregone
My infancy needed a course where what occurs is a better phenomenal
because what I got forced on was a hurt that can run for a solid marathon
then I hit the cold doorstep of Catholic Social Services that I was left on.
