Witness one more time
How I am forcing my own hand.
We are burdened by the dilemma of sight
And I see you at every turn...
I'm buried beneath the quality
You told me I'd never achieve.

Depression has felt like
Gymnastics here without you
On the other end of my phone.

When did being obsolete
Require such a high degree
Of technical mastery?

I'm holding my head up still
Because ******* and moaning
Won't stitch up our schism
And you told me I was not
A priority to you...

I've got to admit
That's a statement
That I'm growing quite sick of...

And if I don't matter to you,
After continued comprise,
I won't continue to lie to myself
About my preference in geography,
And I'll let my conscience step back
Into where I've walked recently...
To where Angels can glare
Without scoffing at the arrogance.