Unanimously untitled

This one’s an ode to all those thoughts

To those of times which couldn’t be bought

Of rhyming phrases and couplets lost

To just the mere time of the night

Or the perchance the dream turns into a fright

So while i prepare like i always did

Of glancing at words that always hid

To never let this change be constant i admit

Nibbling at words bit by bit

But every chance and way that i find

Fate turns, into a different kind

And as the words seem pure,

and thoughts too sure

The thing that is,it ain’t no cure

So a phrase it may seem to not speak its mind

Wishing it’s able to identify its kind

And to the pieces of the puzzle

I so flimsily find,

Pardon me those,

that were left behind.

And those pieces yet to be found,

on ahead,forward bound

Looking towards,

all familiar sounds,

To me and all,

waiting to be astound

And as we reach a familiar bend,

As the author tends to make amends

You know how it goes,

Until the end.