Pity me just a little.
So, I can lie to myself that you understand.
...
I could do with a helping hand.

A new found enjoyment, not heaven sent
Still drawn to it like a moth to a flame

Don't share in my regret, promise to stay distant
I couldn't bare to see you in this much pain

Find me ambivalent to some extent
To take another step if it's in vain

Notice I'm hesitant to place a bet
L's stack shame on top of shame atop my name

Life itself's a debt, lest we forget
The plot and grave are one in the same

A dark passenger resident denise me residence
How did I lose access to my own brain

To myself I'm a threat, morality bent
Just so I'm not always going against the grain

Don't care 'bout bein' relevant, never permanent
But pain finds a way to remain

No clue what it meant is a poor argument
Would rather not waste time trying to explain

One day you might get it, wouldn't count on it
Strange to be your very own ball and chain

Go 'head and attempt it, see no safety net
You WILL become one with the terrain

Flesh and bone, neck and neck racing to pavement
Then witness the insane riddled membrane

Always defiant, against my better judgement
Probably should have stayed in my own lane

No deterrent to embracing my inner deviant
A full embrace of the profane

Won't seek atonement, least not at the moment
I only wish the only option was to remain

There's a death certificate, a signed suicide document
The growing black mark on my heart is more than a stain

So here I sit, trying to make sense of it
Unknown, alone and forgotten out in the rain

Selfimprisonment, a life sentence recipient
The issues with my DNA, infecting every strain

Enjoy the mocking tick after tock from the clock as the hands race monotony just to land on a preoccupied spot, no over shot
Reality not taught, reason is a subplot, lost in translation was the caveat, what's the grand plan for this life span time forgot
Avoiding deaths cousin, the sandman, only shortened the journey to the grand finale at the bottom of a grave plot, a hateful fate fought
Thought I ought not move to avoid falling through the bottom of all rock bottoms due to the dry rot, a quicksand sandbox in back of Salems lot
Rescue or recovery a long shot, no one within earshot but there's an onslaught of inner dialogue piercing the void like the scream of a red hot teapot
As is common with the distraught I sought help from the cold embrace of a slipknot that grew taut through the progression of this thrown together plot of a should've been cancelled pilot
Don't ask me what I see in this blind study of an inkblot, any sanity you got would crumble if caught up in the web of nightmare fuel my own mind went ahead and brought
Forced to boycott my being, can't connect good story lines, lost a dot, popped a squat in a thousand watt recliner like a pre-programmed self destruct robot
Self-preservation an afterthought, miles out to sea before I realized I've not yet bought a yacht, treading water in a tough spot
Messed around and got so high I got caught in the sky like a drifting astronaut lost in space, tethered to a dead cosmonaut
A crackpot juggernaut of supreme disappointment, walk the walk and take a potshot at a what not to do mascot
Cross my i's and dot t's with the underutilized comic sans faunt that don't nobody want, awoken by the taunt of a witching hour haunt
"**** the record and **** the people!" like you heard from Snot, you'll probably be hearing it from me a lot
Before I become a forget-me-not long forgot but go or stay, either way, still dangerous as a traveling blood clot
The good fight was not fought, this life was not sought, everyone seems to have it together, I'm the biggest have not on the block
Do with that what you will, I'm going on a long walk down a short dock with a giant rock in each sock
Then the plan is to mock god to his face and see the shock on his face as I say I could do better and see if I get the morning stars spot

I mean, why not? It's worth a shot

On a busy day,
A floor unkept.
“What’s this woman doing?”
Said Mr. Baker Brett.

With no delay came she,
Hair running below her knees,
Cleant the place
And served him his morning tea.

The innocent kid
Stood in the aisle
With a face devoid of smiles
And fiery eyes.

The struggles of this woman,
He dare not say!
He made a fist.
When the clock struck eight,

He picked up his satchel
And looked at his sister play.
She received no formal education
And was to stay that way.

The struggles that she may face,
He dare not say!
He held his anger in,
And walked away.

Time will pass and
His beard will go grey.
To his curious daughter,
What will he say?

That she ought not
To get educated?
To be slave to an unknown man?
He contemplated.

Wild wild, rage. He must
Burst out today.
He shook off the bad dream
And so will they.

I am exhausted by strength today.
I’ve often pretended to be a mighty oak fighting the storms
Often fought the strongest winds while standing there in the open
Alone and compelled to fight
My wars, and most of the time theirs
Bewildered and forlorn
Glorifying the oak in me
Yet I have always ended up crooked, scarred, and broken
Unaccepting to the message of reality
That there will always be lulls and long despairs
And a lot of battles that you cannot choose
But will still try to find someone
Who’ll help me gather the fallen sticks, my gnarled and withered twigs
To create something beautiful
While I find again my quiet strength, my calm courage amidst any storm