free flow while hitting the bag

The more you edit these things, the more they fall apart in your hands, like operating on a liver... so I think I'll just let it be

It does me in
The difference in him
Between actions and words
It's absurd
The weight I put in it
and now how I sit
on the fence with everyone else
Hesitate at their belts
wondering if they're the same, desire their game
Left me down and confused, feeling used as a prize set aside by pathetic lies,
I tried to be honest and bare, to let down my hair,
heart on the sleeve,
and I'd like to believe
I have the strength to do it again, take the pin out of the weapon and throw it in the den
of another lion. I'm trying.
I'll take it out with this punch
like numbers I crunch in my head about the choices
emotions to the surface...
It'll never be perfect
What am I aiming for?
Even the score?
Or those patterns on the back of leaves
Their movement and grace
*breath* I'm shaking
Is it really worth taking
this out and looking?