The Unseen Analyst

I don’t ask for much. Just peace. Just proof. I’ve wandered too far past curfew God forgot to pick me up     Five days into April. and I am still standing. Not because I’m strong but because I’ve forgotten how to fall, any further without disappearing   You are giving me the proof and asking if it means enough to bring up. Or should we let the lie be. Maybe start building fences.   The voice of the unseen analyst. It’s not pride; it’s the processor of paradox. It doesn’t demand attention; it filters it And it’s divine in its curiosity.   I think I became addicted to the narrator. Because it gave me a language, for things that my heart can’t process