Binoculars out, I’m scanning surroundings off and online,
Nothing to do with me, this season is about internal cleaning, foundations and meanings and who I think I am.
Dying wants. Clear needs. Separation. Purity.
We don’t need flyers, don’t need likes or follows, chasing wet paper, words insignificant, emotional points hollow.
I thought I needed applause. Instead, found blessed with a cause.
I thought I needed approval. Public opinion a defeated leaf in changing winds.