Matter

Playing with rhymes. Something I normally steer clear of in poetry.

Uncurled and unfurled
Are the same thing
Believing
The chance of a dance
Of a time misconceiving
In history
You missed me
But never relieving
The pain
That would gain
Me a length for my grieving
The space of a place
For the chase
Of deceiving
The right time to fight
Has now passed
Please believe me