i used to write poems that had more than seventeen (syllables, i mean) yet i've been haikued trapped in my own life choices that i can't rewrite and people speak truth but only a partial truth too easily fixed but what if we don't? fix ourselves, i mean? what then? can we count to five? (syllables, i mean) breathe in, breathe out, release air till we all calm down? if only we could trap ourselves in syllables and make our lives count.