In the rubble and ash of this crumbling path I took,
It looked like the crash was a jumbled mess of a book,
With torn pages and half of the good ones had the same look.
The truth in the writing surpassed walls,
And I became shook.
Had I known then what I came to understand later in life,
Would've changed the face of my fate and I could've avoided strife.
The pain strengthens, the days lengthen, The narrow pavement remains stable, though latent,
And now I'm getting run off course like the truck that crashed in the woods from the same ****.
Of course, I put the inhalants aside like childish things,
A little too late but hey, it's the thought that counts, ain't it?
Sit back and watch this painting unveil as I frame it.
I call it ‘Shame’ and I hope you like it cause I made it.