Wednesday, December 28, 2016

More of the Same

I've got this penance I’m penning, a sinner
No expert at righting my wrongs, a beginner
I’ll settle for writing these songs, and this poetry
Scan the crowd slow, for a moment, and notice me
I’ll be the one with two eyes to the sky
And this breath I keep bated, I’m waiting on why
Like the answers exist, like they’ll land in my lap
Like my old existential depression, unwrapped
And the gift in the box is a blade in a sheath
I can slice of my hope and find what’s underneath
I could re-gift the fact, if I knew how to use it
I'll hand you my bomb (I can’t seem to diffuse it)
On second thought, keeping it in is my skill set
I take on this pain and I’ve not had my fill yet
The second I’m full, you will know it, it’s obvious
I'll have to purge, find my cleanliness, Godliness
I’ve dismissed notions that all of this matters
Like I’m made of glass and these stones couldn’t shatter
I’m scattered, I’ve patterned myself after nothing
Just memories I haven't made yet, I’m bluffing
I’m praying I’ll buy all this bullshit I’m selling
The dreams I can't dream, my subconscious is quelling
And if I’m a story, I’m not for the telling
I’m best left unsaid, I find silence compelling


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