Most days I feel like nothing
Old Uncle Walt sings the song of himself
But my voice cracks at that octave

I’m still fighting the same demons
The same anger and depressions
That grab round my ankles at night
And drag behind each step during the day

If I wake up in a storm, I try not to get swept away
But I don’t make myself promises
So it’s all I can do when the smoke rolls in
To get alone and try not to choke myself or flood you

The biting wind swirling in my skull
Escapes out of my mouth in curses
It’s no wonder they’re hurtful
My apology is an echo out of the empty dark

But I am sorry

It’s not about you
It’s not your fault
But when all I have is frustration,
What then am I to share?