What I Must Do

A fitness I hope to free myself from.
What am I thinking,
I have to feel what I know I don't feel,
to engulf the sadness that allows interpretation.
More red and purple to look at,
more tightness to feel in every wrinkle on my body;
more magnificent previewed outcomes that will, "left, right, left right left" in front of me.
Waxing intrigue in the control;
how it challenges my own.
How it faces me eye to eye,
resigning me to stand down and sit in the ambivalence of stitching up my open and closed and forgotten lacerations.
Reseeding acquiescence,
impeding and enclosing borders that back up and egg on the rumbling scuffles to claim championship of my freedom to exceed necessity.
Ahh, the locks,
ones masked as the same ones I once held the keys for.
But the keys are now not in my hand or my pocket,
the keys are now held inside their locket.
So in some form I still have to form myself in their likeness,
if I wish to proceed past the unit that touts to protect me.
But behind the dances and backstage after performances,
I know I'm growing in my own way.
I know that in reverence of my reveling memories,
I will surpass the expectations of the key holders and more so of me.