I’m in another one of those moods, something is gone. I’m trying now to put someone in the place of the missing. I cry out for you you’re deaf now it’s hard to listen when your back is turned. No one blames you for me and this mood teetering on an edge. I’m just as happy having these words being the handsome steward. Oh will anyone truly understand the soft and delicate pieces that are jabbed and stuck deep inside me. My mood never compromised, never asked if I’d mind if it could stay a couple more days writing down the words that help explain the hurt and hurry the child felt. Down now, on broken knees to palms there are pieces of me that only a few will ever understand. The difference now, between my mood and my reflection the hurt in me comes out in all these words. So sit with your favorite glass in hand and watch as I unfold myself.