Upon the Edge

I find myself in a curious state of observation not that such contemplation's are foreign still fleeting feelings of an alien nature engulf me. Like shadows forged from promises past who's bodies lay in decay within unmarked graves least I stumble upon their headstones spurring specters and ghost of moments long mourned. Yet, I find myself in a curious state time washing bruises and cuts emotions made in seething nights with brutal rage there could be no right only lasting wrongs held hostage to justify fear and hate. Now I find myself in a curious state Asking: Could this be the edge of freedom? A fulcrum of peace in a flotsam of chaos? What a curious state.