Crouched in position

The tender footsteps
of rabbits. . .
as if you look over ones shoulder.
The scent of false
ideas.
Attitudes.
Ideology.
As I look back.
The tender footsteps
of rabbits,
I saved my last
breath.
As I lead the scent
of fear.
As I trumped the self-hate
within me.
I smell something fierce.
The fresh scent of rabbits.
I will not pretend to know I act
objectively.
Safety taken in precaution
of fire hazards.
My every location
for the-remedy.
I will not lose grip of my operating
signal.
I will not pretend to operate,
objectively.
You are not the same person
that others think you are.
You are the person you appear
to be.
Dedicated, kind,
and caring.
As personal I am.
Gentle, compassionate,
and daring.
I celebrate my mind.
My wheels set in motion.
As I lay back my head to rest,
such magical weight in thought.
The tenacity of a courage that has no myth.
I chill out on milk,
it adds as a security measure.
Drinking white stuff that comes
from inside an animal,
makes me think of what acts as
defense-mechanisms.
Smart little cows.
They make moo-moo sounds.