Reaching

I'm a wreck, but I'm breathing.
So, that's something.
I try not to.
It only makes it worse when I do.
Always on, I swing in pursuit,
resonating out of tune,
frequencies dillute,
a white noise solitude.
Repercussive the loom,
and the threads soon knotted truth.
Keep me reaching,
crawling through what's left of me
to get these hands on the need.

Taking steps, sometimes slipping;
it's not nothing.
Just ask the leaves,
if they fall at your feet.
Have to serenade a failure,
paint yourself into a corner.
A rough faded texture
that's been earned and cured,
repeated to a leather.
All in hope of the obscure.
Keep me reaching,
crawling through what's left of me
to get these hands on the dream.

I'm a wreck, but I'm breathing,
and that's something.

I'm on my way!
Gonna make something of myself.
On my way!
Gonna mean something to someone.
On my way!
Gonna be someone for something.

Where and however the pieces will fall,
I won't care at all.
I'll be wherever my feet take me,
free and easy, reaching.