Friday, December 2, 2016


I keep these bags ‘neath my eyes, a reminder
My options exhausted, like me
I kept my heart in a dusty, white binder
A sight that so few cared to see
Now I hang portraits, my lows aren't as low
But my heights are infrequent as well
Ain't that the point? Aren't we meant to stay neutral?
Never to dream, or see hell?
I've touched the bottom, a dive that still haunts me
You never miss air 'til it’s gone
I’ve built these closets to stash that which ails me
I viewed me a king, I'm a pawn
Royalty means that you're never admonished
In practice, if not in belief
Peasantry, though, is a quite different animal
One with no chance to show teeth


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