Do you?

The rattle of the teacups stuffed in anxiety within my soul for a cause. It reminded me of how messy our hands used to be. How brutally we climbed our temptations until charged with a danger ahead. But, did the mat lay bare thereafter? I struggled to figure out what actually made us digress from our preset throne of happiness. The throne that we battled for life. The battle we survived with smiles. The smile, just because.
Do you picture us anymore? Do those plates feel naked in absence of my fingers, fighting for a foul share? And the chain of laughs to annoy your face? Does your beard feel less attended? Have your teeth been isolated from the taste of separation ?
Why do I, and only I, for a cause feel bald?
Like the defied laws of traffic, the stripped tales of raped ones? Am I to be blamed in the ocean of mishaps? My nescience of swimming stands out alone. To be my hardest confession.