Miss-take

My precept on an underlying indulegence

Preheats my diaphragm

Holding onto my breath

And arguing the anguishes of my level of depth

Placing my hands above my head

Anticipating the decree of my proluding pride

My heart gasping with heavy beatings

Engulfing the heavy flow of my crimson blood

And hauling emotions and thoughts to meet at a centre stage where I must either miss or take this opportunity that tomorrow will be covered with a flux of tears and fears

One that will be titled a mistake.

One that will be derived from melancholic speeches of “I wish I didnt”, “I hate myself”, “I’m the worst person ever”

All those that resort to the blame game

Because I am Miss Take

And I make mistakes

On what I miss and take