I found a way to find you out.
You shift far too much to keep your shadow a doubt,
It picks you apart.
You?re left handed when I?m not around.

Taking in more breaths than you?ll ever need to let out,
You?re suspending your heart.
You creep past the sun as if it could stain
And you entrap your pigment by dodging the rain.

You bask in the moon, as it's soft on your face.
But it's your body, itself, that will chew through your veins,
Exposing solutions that deem you a fluke.
Naturally, it's inviting the truth.

To what do I owe this imposition?
When you drift through your head,
Do you picture your left as you try to forget a life that you had?

Do you intend to pretend as though you recall
What was said the first time we ever crossed paths?
To what do I owe this imposition, this test?