Many plates spinning.
None are controlled.
Wobbly and fast.
Be patient, I’m told.
Not related to each other.
But perhaps they are.
Just need them to stop.
Stop without a scar.
Trauma keeps surfacing.
In such random ways.
Causes confusion.
Lost in a corn maze.
Faith is strong.
The plates will slow.
Bad turns into good.
Through patience, I’ll grow.
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