One day only gusts that hope, that heal, shall leave my lungs
Bear with me
Until then look beyond the fumes that pass my poison tongue
And you'll find a contour rivalry
There is a smog that overcasts and stalls the growing rivalry
Between the contours of what I've become and what I want to be
There are toxins in the air; sometimes I wallow willfully
And sometimes I'm just too tired to squint and see the contour rivalry
One day I'll speak clear and clean with no need to obscure
Bear with me
And I love you all any horseshit you've endured
And for seeing the contour rivalry