the flaws

I like things that defy their form,  
memories fractured, gently smoldering,  
in that instant when "normal" crumbles,  
the sly angle of the world shifts path,  
leading me beyond the line, out of bounds.

My core—resolute, fierce, unbroken—  
captures the full view, wild and raw.  
Unseen, waiting on the brink, always denied—  
logic restrains it, refusing to let it leap.

I love what groans, what reeks of decay,  
holding a thousand muted truths.  
It clings to my lips, salty and sharp,  
guiding my way by forgotten lights,  
left behind by the restless tides.

Pride dwells on ridges and mountaintops,  
but I’d choose heights over shifting sands.  
It’s easier to dive into the depths of memory's void,  
where the fractures conceal what belongs to creators.

And in the end, perhaps it’s not the light  
that shows the way, but the cracks, the flaws.  
They split the world open, and if you’re brave enough  
to fall into them, that’s where you find the truth  
you’ve been hiding from.