Boats In Winter.

My semi-cornered improper predictions
Stabbed into my core of self reliance.
I chipped at the counter top paint
To reveal the colder tones.
I knew something was devastating,
And I was in trauma from monochrome stakes.
Is it fun to play my harp strings,
Then cut the chords to ugly wires?
I never knew what to say when torn.
I guess we figured the calm before the storm.