Hello,
I've come to talk with you
about me
again.
The past will always be ahead,
the things you've done,
the things you've said,
the thread you've spun.
Even if the overcharged words
are spouted from up high,
they don't inspire herds,
they're content with a sigh.
I've wished I was and never did
countless times before.
And every time I hid,
I cut it all and more.
I watch men and think,
why would you do ...
I stare down and sink
into the pain of me too.
If there is just one task we've all been given,
it might be to sift our judgment through,
to crawl from beneath and back to living,
by making up what was lied and what is true.