Isn't it funny how
so little effort
can have
such
tremendous
impact

Remember when you asked
if I would write another song?
Bet you didn't think I'd wait
til the minute you were gone

Sometimes hate the wisdom
in the lessons that we learn
I may not have a pretty voice
but I will still be heard

Should have listened closer
To the whispers in the wind
Welcomed to another place
and the healing now begins

I've heard that there are reasons
for the things that must occur
Waiting on the wheel to spin,
to win, 'cause it's my turn

But timing's almost everything
and Karma is a *****
I marvel at your ease with love-
you've but to flip that switch

I'll spark a light,  and fill my lungs,
to purge you from my head
The dust had barely settled
when you found another bed

So mask your true intentions
with an altruistic face,
But you ain't foolin' me by sayin'
"I'll give you some space"

The summer of our discontent
had such a hopeful start
Hope he makes you happy,  
then I hope he breaks your heart

If you ever feel that emptiness
from things you failed to keep,
Well baby,  that's on you,
'cause I ain't losing no more sleep

Remember when you asked if I would
write a song for you?
Careful what you wish,  for someday
it just may come true

Maybe on some far off day,
I'll find where I belong
But meantime, let me offer thanks
for helping me write this song

'Cause timing's almost everything
And karma is a *****
Careful what you ask, for someday
you may get your wish

Autumn blows with hints of winter,
Mood descends to match the weather
Sorry I couldn't help you,  and I
Still ain't got my **** together

Spark a stick of nicotine,
And sink into my self-reflecting
Got a whole lot more to say,
And I know it's not what your expecting

Humor wanes,  like crescent moon,
My memory tumbles back to June,
I think of all those promises
That never would be kept

Take 3 deep breaths to clear my mind
Of all the loss I've left behind,
And now I think about it,
Somehow strangely I have never wept
(Yet still I brood on all those
melancholy nights I never slept)

Seems like every time I find
The will to let down my defenses,
Honestly flies out my mouth
Despite my gilded best intentions

Much too late for me to take
Emotions back, and lock them down
I'll flash a wicked rictus grin
Like Pennywise the evil clown

Excavate my rusty hatchet,
Time to chop down olive branches
Tough to slay a dragon for you
Armed with only broken lances

Suffer awful habits as I
Lounge on decomposing laurels
Find myself in crosshairs of
Outrageous Fortune's emptied quarrels

Flick another cancer stick,
Continue with my self-reflection
Yeah, I've still got more to say,
And you might tell from my inflection

Hits a little close to home,
Whose walls are white and stark and bare
I'll whisper to a flirty femme
Who winks at me and twirls her hair

So now I sit and shift my hips
To grind on the lust of another woman
How many months must pass before
I see I was worked up all for nothin'

Lift my eyes from off her thighs
And look into her smiling face
I think I might maintain if I can
Keep the pain in another place

She prays, she stays perched on her knees,
but she can’t admit she never receives replies.
All these days, it’s no phase but she never sees,
essentially she’s only talking to vacant skies.

She pleads with her beads, her trusted rosary
but every word falls on deaf ears.
Every night, routine tight, does she include me
or does she only prioritize her deepest fears?

I’ve only prayed once in my life
for something so meaningless most people would forget.
I should’ve saved my “one” for times of true strife,
but I’m a lucky gambler, I had never lost a bet.
Are you there God? It’s me, Emily,
not the one in the past or the future self,
I could ask for a million things but they wouldn’t hold much meaning
but I’ll neglect begging for my fleeting health.

Up, down, left and right,
I personally prefer the Contra Code.
It aids one better in a fight
regardless of the settings or the mode.
They say Sunday’s a time for worship and rest
but I’ve been working all night and my left brain won’t stop flowing.
I guess there’s a lot of things sitting on my chest,
and a certain type of comfort in uncertainty and not knowing.

I dig six feet deep to find the dedication,
and I put my hands together; connecting my fingers.
I can’t help it, I can’t find it, it seems my hesitation
has a will of it’s own, and it always lingers.