Sometimes I believe I can do anything
More often than not, nothing
My trouble is falling in-between places,
but not in love
Is it fear making me careful?
Or some need for veils, for
always another layer, for there
not to be truth; I dispute everything
without stopping to wonder what side I am on
Some strange mercy; I feel them all.
Still, sometimes, I think it is love
not for you, not for me, just something spread over
A little thinly perhaps.
But then, the world is large.