Famine of Reforming

How fast can it pass?
I know the pain comes in waves
I wonder at crests

Can they be hastened
Frequency and amplitude
Made slightly more kind?

Perspective matter
Now a matter of shifting
From near death to life

That is how it feels
A word sought, only pain felt
Thoughts all in chaos

Time impossibly
Slow artificially forged
Falsified no more

I know it returns
The structure in memory
That feeling of eep

Though these days may hurt
These years will be remembered
As our age begun

You are expected
Seems you're already aware
Skilled sailor stirring (sealegs standing)
(*stompstompstomp*'ing)

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