things haven't been going my way
for awhile now
so i'm letting it roll
see where it goes

not giving up the fight though
learned the hard way
to know when it's time
to give up control

When ink is spilled...

Do you make it into something that looks good or try clean up as fast as you can.

Do you let it soak into the paper and when you go to write it ends up on your hands.

Do you continue to spill the ink not giving a **** about where it lands.

Do you turn it into a poem or song that you could sell to the next underground band.

Do you leave it to live a life of its own and see the patterns and shapes it makes as though it was planned.

Or do you leave it for someone else to clean up just because you can.

Her mind was a twisted masterpiece....

We're all powerless!
Nothing is in our control;
not when we die,
not when we were born,
not what we do.
Law stops us or at least most of us.
We don't choose what we learn,
that was decided long before we were around
and will continue long after we go.
We are powerless!
We are unimportant,
unheard of,
silent.
Unless we have talent
even then
we are powerless!
We are the superior species,
we run the world,
we destroy everything!
Natural
or what we created,
we destroy ourselves,
the land were animals roamed
dinosaurs maybe,
now just a city skyline.
Just concrete.
We are powerless!
We are overrun by destruction,
by ourselves,
our systems,
our ideas of right and wrong.
We are powerless!
No matter how many persuaded
there is always
one
who remains in the past!
One
who will not change!
One
who is stronger than us!
that one
leaves us powerless.