Cerebration in shackles. While I reel in a bout of self-doubt, my clipped wings wrestle to flight free.
Disillusioned and imbued as you'd find a glass of water fouled with a water color concoction. I'll consider it the lull before my storm.
All you need is a piece of me. Drench, not drown. Shelter, not bank. Wish, not demand. Do, not expect. Let go, not smother.