I'm respecting all of my constant expectancies 
But lately I've been clinging to certain doubtful things
They start out so small
And I seem to stand so tall now
But the image is only temporary
The real picture is just a matter of how
Can't you tell?
The windshield wipers; how they fail.
To rid the rain at the corner of the screen
It shows my peripheal vision;
My blurred precision.
My time is cutting quick and clean
One limp of the scissors remains unseen
How can you be
So blind to the
Huge rip in the page that caused catastrophe?
Catastrophe, catastrophic
dreaming.
Please know that I can hear you scoffing.
Don't disappoint me with your laughing
Your discomfort causes you to lack compassion
The rain will pour down my car window
And I'll wipe at it helplessly, begging for no more.