Short poem #2

Holding your own life in the palm of your hand. Do you squeeze or let go, as you forget what's around you. While you dawdle and stare. Slipping the truth through your fingers as your fangs begin to bare. You wonder at existence if it could only be fair. With no intent on being true this paradox inside of you and your state of mind so fragile it is, in all it's pieces. And the heart you carry so ripped and distraught leaving you breathless as you wake up to reality from the nightmare you call a dream.