music blasting into my ears,
rain pelting my face like tears from a forgotten god,
wind blasting against me,
but in all this chaos i have never more alive,
the fight to put on foot in front of the other,
pure primal force of me against her the mother of all nature,
the fight to survive the onslaught.

the fight to live.

However am I expected,
When a criminal is elected,
Not to be depressed?
I’m certainly not impressed.
We began to make strides
To set ignorance aside
Then along came the jerks
To destroy all our works,
To protect the weak and sick,
With lies and political tricks.

By the time those fools awake
The crooks will surely take
Our country to the brink
And watch it slowly sink
Then they’ll blame it on us
Who didn’t raise enough fuss
To keep their twisted games
And their feet to the flames.
Instead we’ll watch defeat
Throw us all into the street.

Why can’t people understand
That by not helping our land
And the people that live here
And giving into bogus fears
We are putting big money in
To the pockets of those who win.
By denying any help and aid
To those who actually paid
Will make the rich much richer
And then they’ll break the pitcher?

The pitcher of milk and honey
Has become nothing but money
Because the poor suffering
Makes them trust the muttering
Of those who prefer to blame
Than investigate the game
That is played on us all
And that causes the fall
When wealth takes control
And digs us further into a hole.

Wicked witch of the west
How dare you put me to the test
The snow burns the ground
And everything around
Oh, what a beautiful mess.

I was told to keep my nose clean
But I'm sniffing life away
The witch came to me
With an offering
What a cruel game to play.

It is a strange feeling...
to not belong.
Like all your layers are peeling.
Like every decision you make is wrong.

I miss everyone who has ever loved me.
I miss that feeling of my soul being warm.
I am just about as far away as I could be.
All my plans are lacking form.

I am a shapeless human,
without a mission, without a plan.
My soul has cracked just enough to let the gloom in.
Wanting to be strong, not knowing if I can.

My biggest fear was always weakness,
but it seems now that is all I am.
My newest personality characteristic is meekness.
But maybe I'm not supposed to give a ****...

Maybe that's what I was supposed to learn.
That not all our dreams fly.
Sometimes our efforts just burn.
That you can do whatever you want, is a lie.

That it is ok to let go.
It is fine to be weak, to lose.
That I can rise once more from this low.
That I will sing gospel after the blues.