Chaos paradox

The windows to my soul open inside chaos

The chaos distorts the already severe reality, the questions desolate me.

Inside of me, the installed chaos distorts me and drain prospects.

Child of experience shaped in chaos, the options were survive or collapse.

The windows of my soul open for inertia

The time weighs in the balance, comparisons, self pity,

but from my nonconformities the chaos isn’t fed

Child of armor forged in chaos, doesn’t question to not get hurt

The windows of my soul open inside new times

New times, new quarrels, old scars, almost perfect carapace

The chaos is in a frame, venerated as painful lesson

Child whose home has its foundation in chaos, is tough, is strong, is wise.