The Draft

The disassociated testing
Of the fletching
Like a surgery of shaky hands
And patient baby steps
Could take you to another place
To where the love you know you could leave
And take it all back
Another damn heart attack
I'm trying to contain it
But everything I think about is far away
And that's where it always seems to be
It's time to get back
It's hard to understand
But I'm banking on a long shot
Not picking from one through ten
I'm solid as a number
Do you get the irony?