Am I making this up or am I manifesting?Marshaling in a mayday,I am impervious to my best attempts at forgiveness.A curious inquiry—Is this hometown big enough for the both of us?In the crevices of the letting-out ice,I am as unfiltered as ever.Lost sleep and seeping-in sleet,I see the sky come down,And here I am,Muddied up and muddling the watersOn the corner of main street—Flippant and fearing the worst.A dichotomy of warmest regardsAnd wishing I never saw you again,I never thought Neverland could be such a negative thingBut some poems, like this, we wish were fictionRather than fact.L.W.