"perminate" poems
As I stare back at myself I know all this pain, and all the shame came from the lame, and now has become a perminate stain in the picture frame that is my life.
Tossing and turning all night, tryn’ to fight, all the demons that come to me even in the daylight.
My stomach turns and my soul burns at the thought of all the constant worry that I’ve fir-minted in the mist of constant bad decisions.
Changing the past is not an option, but the past has lead me to where I am today, far and away to far gone to change the way I lived yesterday.
The present frame of mind is to just fly, and fry the burden that I've brought, to stop this implementation as an act of compassion.
Self realization rests on the heart of the weary, but I have just barely started, and I think I've finally found out what is truly scary.
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC