I ball my fist in anger,
As i think about those times where
I was treated bad...
I curse the room around me,
As i think about those times where,
I didn't say the things i should've said...
I punch the walls and the images of,
The face i should be hating and trying to get rid of...
From out of my mind and locked into the cellar of the past...
Away with all of my temporary emotions feelings, friendships, people....etc ....
Why do i freeze?
Why can't i cook the eggs that have broken. ....
Why can't i prepare my meal and swallow the scrambeled eggs from those broken memories and the yokes, filled with too much love or too much pain....
Why am i suffering?
An enjoyable pain,
With its smirk on its face...
Why am i loving it?
Is this a challenge....
As I'm drinking my pride,
I'm thinking about the being...
In my mind i'm going insane...
But why is my face and my cooking,
Still the same?
Why is that no matter how angry i get...
I always keep that extra egg.....
Like a little kid,
Thinking it will crack out of its shell on its own..it'll be breathing and come to me like its mother..so i baby it....
Wrapping and wrapping it around many warmfilling blankets by the stove...
Still its so cold....
Why do i still have a child-like notion...
I back up my reality with lies....
I back up my pain and my dried roses,
With its pride.....
I look back to the eggs...
I'm boiling....
*A bad egg, I'm holding...
