This habitual
Hypocritical ritual
Keeps me cynical
The biggest battle's internal
A raging war roaring eternal
To vile for an example
Dying inside is literal
Allowing the visual
To be topically minimal
Though the condition is critical
A pitiful cry for help comes out in a trickle
Subliminal and lyrical
The unusual becomes typical
With the refusal of a label
There's no removal of the painful
Every attempt has been futile
Life is miserable
When love is conditional

©2024

I wouldn't know the feeling associated with being valuable
I know vulnerable, I do know that
I know painful and invisible, dismissible and disposable
I know, "keep your nose outta trouble" hypocritical
I know the day-to-day that tries in every way to keep you face down while you play it off as being humble
It's your mind but can't join the huddle
While any spare time is stolen by the mental struggle
The battle plan is and always was simple,
"Toss more at him than he can handle,"
"More than humanly, no, humanely possible"
It's sad though
Because my recall is abysmal so I don't know
If I've never had my hands on a handle
****** from the get-go
Now just ruins of what was easily let go
By the many that have come before and there'll be more for sure though

©2024

At times we miscalculate the moves,
We acquit at our peril,
With the irresistible vocals,
And beats louder than words,
Why we dance at our insults,
We are painted in black,
With crooked and spotted legs,
Yet, our desire is to glow,
Why we trusted our painters,
They dressed us in long white dresses,
Well, Mr Tailor knows about the front slit,
We dozzed in our drinks,
With olives for grapes,
In the serene choral,
Whose refrain was,
'Move, we stepping on you'
It's our minds that killed us,
We lived in the trust of their smiles,
And in their cold fragranced hugs.