Right back to the old start,
Having fallen apart,
Smaller stones still unturned,
Though that glove has since burned.
Right back to what was done,
Work Iâve done under nightâs sun,
Feeling around, in haze,
A quick leisure, a tough maze.
Scattered brain, smashed, soon rebuilt,
Rebranding to feel less guilt,
Seeing it with a cleaned mind,
Not seeing the past as a crime.
Where I once stood with no ...
