discomfort in fulfilling our hopes
hesitance in facing our fears
where do we draw the line
between living and being alive
if our actions speak louder than our words
how do we measure sound
in the face of death
why do we let her down
in knowing that we never settled
bets with our hearts
gambling our existence away
basing our worth in cards
dealt by someone else
concrete in our stubborn ways
when do we realize
changing habits has no price
yet the highest cost
but we still refuse to pay
for debts we acquire
and complain about the weather
until our bodies collapse

Isn't it ironic that
Silence screams so loud
we drown out the sound
and pray the voices pipe down
" they don't sound like me anymore
  they won't go away and each day
  a demented voice pulls me under
  and now I wonder...
which way is up?"

Isn't it ironic how
playing cards can cut
like a razor blade
and red dice rolling
become an evil eye that winks.
Does that cloth
on a tricky table
feel as soft
as the lining on a nearby coffin?

Isn't it ironic
when love's soft touch
devolves into lust
and broken hearts
disintegrate into rust,
when a silent embrace
becomes an empty bed
but that void only deepens
when we cheapen
our body and soul
to feel whole
for a mere moment.

Isn't it ironic
we want a world
so far from reality
we blur the one we have
as we snort, smoke and swallow
our problems away
only for them to return
on a much darker day.

A hundred vices
**** a thousand men
and in solidarity we stand.
Let one brave soul say
I have been bitten by these...
and more
so many more!
Let me lean on you brother
Let me comfort you sister
Let us stumble forward together!

It was a sixpenny slot
which wasn't that much,
but when that's all you've got
it was.

twenty shots to *** twenty ducks
and you'd get your sixpence back,
quack ****** quack
never once got it back
and I always walked home,

that should have taught me something
about something, but when you're ten
you can't know anything about something
or I never thought so.

It is when you are corrupted that it is most difficult to go back, but falling out of innocence is easy. It's as if you could laugh you way from sweet to greed. Just step on down to the *****, wet ground. When your knees hit the floor and you want to stand back up, that will be the moment you realize just how hard it is to climb out. Climb out of the mud that coats your body. The mud that you dismissed as it filled your lungs and spewed from your mouth with every word you spoke. It felt good and easy sliding down into a puddle of muck. Now try to stand up. Try to wipe your greed soaked clothes dry. It's difficult coming back to innocence when you fall so deep into ignorance.