Misplaced In Translation

Sunrise begins to lift a faint blush of red behind the city skyline. The day crawls out from under it's covers and starts to reclaim the dark, evaporating dreams, piecing together memories, anchoring the self in time. Yet something is lost, a word or a sentence misplaced in translation, the omission of a line of code in a cipher used to unlock meaning. That vast mechanism slowly grinds through the gears and starts to move, paving over lesions with noise. You try and hang on but each day takes you further away from what was left behind, now no more than a dull, persistent longing pitted nameless in your waking hours or haunting the shadows of your troubled sleep. You realize that if it weren't for these thin connections stretched like paper streamers across time, you could easily be someone else.