No gentle muse, but a chosen, hazy peace.
Then bloomed a quiet, where the mind could see.
Each “should’ve, could’ve, would’ve” finds a stark release.
The inner landscape, a raw reflection looking back at me.

A vibrant journey through life’s intricate gate,
The space where déjà vu is a movie.
The breath ascends, a silent, humble prayer,
To face myself, in this unburdened air.

The Blunt Siren