The language of interpretation; gibberish

Strange; the way those bricks fall into a perfect shape

The pace to screw up; tight as a turtle neck

And the outcome came in the form of a ship wreck

Proud is not a word I would use

Proud was just there to abuse

Shame was the muse

To recap to recollect

To enhance and select

The likes from the dislikes

To look back through an erased face

To remember home as a no place

To stir the moments precious to embrace

Feeble; are the pretences

Daring are the senses when emotion overcomes logic

And the act becomes static

Caught up in the phase before decision making

Speculating about the essence of mistaking

Embraced by this kind pen and the freedom of writing