Ah, this **** fluctuation I’m sorry I can’t I can’t write an empowering anthem My voice is weak It seems so inadequate To mourn in front of strangers But I’m getting good at it & God is getting stranger When I was thirteen I suppose I was dumb I thought that I could be The mightiest of all Now I am numb (I must have been so ******* dumb!) Planning, planning, planning & writing it all down in my little black book I’ll be seventeen tomorrow Can you imagine? Five years of dragging my desperate self Just to tell myself - I think you’re dying (no, you’re not!) You keep on trying, to push the wall (Baby, keep on kicking, keep on kicking till it falls) It doesn’t move, it doesn’t move at all
I recorded this poem : https://youtu.be/EvKc-TXeJm4