Being off kilter from the start,
it's hard to know when I'm centered.
You know I'm eccentric at heart;
my cadence is only one part.
Hard-facing memories that hurt,
pushing me fast -- down in the dirt.
They wound -- sever -- forever cut
deep through the innards of my gut.
My consciousness needs time to adjust
to the realness of what's taken place.
Sometimes, it leaves me out to rust;
other times, I'm smothered in dust.
The first thing I notice is lack of thought,
loss of energy -- feeling overwrought.
The causes are what I have sought--
hard to know, as I never was taught.
Fully centered, I'm often found
standing tall, with feet on the ground.
You'll notice, if you stay around,
the crux of my cranium is sound.
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