Palindrome

My limit

It’s limitless

My sky knows no boundaries;

what lining of which cloud?

There is no end,

we only beg for the means to an end,

we only begin

 

Every fresh start is the tail of an end and every end begs to begin

Don’t tell,

no don’t dare

to pen the woes of completion’s friend–

don’t push me to bend that I may contort my frame into a twisted cage of mess,

screaming and squeezing to ascended depths of excess stress,

digested mess

 

My limit has no end

No final lap to bend

You’ll beg for the means to an end, 

cutting off all buds blooming into your hands

 

There is no end,

we always begin