Schism

"...

The poetry that comes from the squaring off between,
And the circling is worth it.
Finding beauty in the dissonance.

There was a time that the pieces fit,
but I watched them fall away.
Mildewed and smoldering,
strangled by our coveting



Ive done the the math enough to know
the dangers of a second guessing
Doomed to crumble unless we grow,
and strengthen our communication

Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion

Between supposed lovers
Between supposed lovers.



And I know the pieces fit."

Schism -Tool