Find First the Edges

There's so much to want I don't know where to begin.

Feed me the crust and I will imagine the bread. Because I do remember. I have tasted.

It was never mine, but the hungry have a right to steal. Don't they?

When everyone else is fed, we have the right to take what they've left on their plates.

Or so survival would argue in my defense.

No need to be prefect for a world that is so far from. I will justify my actions only after I am proven wrong.

It gave me the option. It didn't have to hurt, but I chose it. Because there's no temptation otherwise. No lure. The loss is the only thing that tells us we ever had what we wanted.

I need to know this.

However I can.

They go, but they don't leave.

Or I just got lucky this time. Well, I know I did.

So now what do we do with it?

I have your words there in my pocket. But the song they create as we walk I know is someone else's.

You want to save me, but I already know how to swim.

It's where to go that troubles me.

First we put together all the edges. These steadfast puzzles.

And only afterwards do to the middles begin to show.

You didn't hurt me.

You showed me I could still live.