No, I am not a graceful person.
I am certainly not a Sunday morning or a Friday evening.
I am a Wednesday 3 am, dull and uneventfully banal.
I am a pointless chase for a public transport that's taken off along it's path.
A major setback.
I am the broken window of an abandoned shrine,

My bones crack on a nightly basis as I fall from Elegance with a dull thud,
I apologise for my awkward silence in a crowd full of people
And fiddly cheer around a muted mass.
Like a Confounding introvert,
I take cover under the sheaths of destitute.

I believe I do not belong around people,
That I ,belong to all the leap days that didn't happen
Underneath my skin, light and darkness have mixed to form a storm,
A calamity.
Only a lot more tapered,
A lot more stemed.
It's like one of those lightenings that you don't see,
But you hear the echoes.