what's real?

Unreal, in a bad way

That's what I feel.

The things that happen,

They feel like they are outside me.

Outside of my scope.

A new city 4 years ago

Is still new,

Parts of it home.

A cow that's confused 

Where to graze and how

A field of yellow and green husk

But no one knows which is better.

A tapestry of choices

But the stage still feels 

Rudimentary.

Even though it's not.

It's been 4 years,

Wake up now,

You have slept enough,

The field is now clear,

You can pick the wrong stem

But your next chance could 

Always be the greatest of leaves.

Maybe you just needed

The instinct,

The power and love

That you already have.