Act as if I could sell dreams
to an insomniac,
Or selling broken pieces to
Cracking skulls to think
Arranging my plans in serial,
on the few crumbs of bread.
Why I ask the Lord for my daily bread,
to fill all my ideas. Keep them fed.
Seem to be a puzzle piece,
trying to find my fit
As I play such games,
finding humour from my wit.
Dressed for life, suit and tie
hoping it all could fit.
But life at times feels so much
like a job, but I can't even quit.
I'm over my head at times,
wanting to be an upright citizen.
Beating on myself,
maybe because I didn't get enough discipline.
Days I'm trying to train my mind,
most days I lost track.
Picture out my life plans,
still feels like there's a drawback.
Pressing the On and Off switch
of my mind. Don't know what's current.
Haven't paid the dues of my life,
nowadays I have a warrant.
Relevance goings irrelevant,
if you're not relevant to yourself.
Relatively speaking, I don't know how
to end this piece. So here's the end. Oh well!
Why must the end of a cause
not have you all standing in your applause?
Lord only knows,
why we're quick to pick out the flaws.
The pain of hanging over your jaws,
while I'm handing you a gift of my words.
Like the non-existent Santa Claus.
Spitting words to your face,
facts of my case.
Who runs the passion of his soul,
for you to chase.
This is far too long,
to the point I don't know where these words are coming from.
This rant is far too withstanding,
way too strong.
So to you all, I'm now gone.
I'm guessing this was a rant of mine.