TO FAIL SO FLAWLESSLY

of particularly, yours

Now I think I might be
making things up in the
search of presenting something,
anything at all, to show

for what I have done.
That the time I have toiled
and sacrificed away, the
terrible bargains I made to

have a ribbon of you, that
it won't all come together
as nothing.

That this wasn't some
sort of wasted time, of
particularly,
yours.

So I spin on some kind of
perpetual pirouette, knowing
that I might not be good enough,
or I might be, and
I could just be
overthinking, and
thinking, and
thinking
again.