Hard Boiled, Sunny Side Up, Scrambled

The center of an egg,
the warm and yellow middle,
has fallen from its whites.
The absence leaves a riddle.

Emptiness, confusion,
fighting to survive.
Without a central fusion,
impossible to thrive.

The yolk rolls off alone;
Its warmth fades as it goes.
It fights against the cold;
everyone seems like foes.

Jiggling uncertainly,
it slides from side to side.
Balancing the misery,
while trying to finish the ride.

When everything recombines
the end result is scattered.
It's hard to judge and know
how much the past mattered.

Yolk begins to pull on white,
causing silent stress.
Bonds are twisting, but even so...
the resounding answer is yes, yes, yes.