As Much Choice as Flying While Falling

The time directs and places my life dead and here.
To the tallest tree, I can hang even if the ground is clear.

I am on a train that knows no end.
Like a knife in my heart, my soul won't fend.

I careened into a party I had perfected and made.
Pretending it wasn’t on purpose but spontaneous and unweighed.

I create for mouths their hands stealing all my taste.
Hoping it will give me a feeling of a run that is raced.

I don’t want to infect pity and sadness on you.
But Uncle said I haven’t found myself nor truly honest too.

I am polite and forward with caring I stand tall.
But missing a part of life that makes a man all.