Backed in.
Upside-down yet right-side-up.
My "Days Off" are never enough.
Backed in. Feelin rough.
Being alone in my quiet place is often tough.

My mind wanders, getting lost.
Missin out on bein about.
Locked up on a cold, cloudy, winter day.
No doubt.
No trust, no love, nothing to clutch...
I hold my blanket and pout.
Loudly.
No friends wander in and out.

Undoubtedly this pen holds no cure for a broken spirit and a broken heart.
I guess this just falls under "Vague Art".
But it's a new start...to an old art.
I should've known this'd be harder than being a martyr.

Underestimating the already underestimated.
It's my time to shine.
Mesmerized by the bright light.
I try not to fight it...this paper, My Shrine.
Im an ugly person with a handsome mind, intertwined with the devine.
My life, MY throw, MY time.
It's never this easy to draw strait lines...-----------------------

Open arms with empty change.
Im stagnant, feeling mangy.
Crawling along to the oasis.
Dieing in the desert.
If i could only slide uphill...
Im a long way from home.
But im still rollin.

Howbout emptyness.
Howbout sorrow.
Howbout not 'living' to see tomorrow.
Howbout it?

A round of applause for a lost cause.
For All that **** stuck under my shoe!
All the **** I stumble thru!
All the 'its' pronounced post 'Shhh'!

Those are the screams of my inner being.
Clawing it's way out from the depths of hell.
I know. You cant tell.
It's better that noone really knows me.

It's a lot easier.
Trust me.