It's pretty wild what people expect out of each other. Especially in the U.S.
I have also found that people are almost unbelievably fickle.

As per my usual form, writing is my release.. so if dark isn't your thing maybe you should StumblUpon so


Caved In

I got ink smears on my hands, oh wait I mentioned that before...
Planning all of my adventures as I'm sitting on my floor.
In my imagination I never imagined I'd be bored,
But as I drain this bottle my visions succumb to reform.

I was born into this body, I was raised to be a man.
I fought with tooth and nail to make it but I guess nobody can.
See there are all these definitions of success and victory,
All these angles and perspectives that two eyes could never see.

And just around the corner, or bend, beyond the point of no friends,
Alone in the dark with just yourself and a cigarette,
Loosely hanging from your lips like things you wish you would have said,
Breeding just behind your confidence... Irrelevance...

Some call it doubt, and others call it fear.
From my perspective both are wrong, it's simply being, "here."
Staring at those matches standing just before a choice
Trying to ask for some advice but unable to find your voice.

So in that indecisive moment just before you take the plunge,
To sacrifice morality in a successful forward lunge,
Is there a pang, or a jolt, maybe a subtle, shifting, shiver?
Do you hang, do you bolt, or do you poison your liver?

Me? I watch and I listen see I've learned and I've forgiven,
Made so many sacrifices you'd think I was born a winner.
As I grew, and I viewed, as I pandered and gathered,
I never knew what I was doing, I figured it didn't matter.

I'm only one man.
I refuse to be a fake.
If your choices really matter
They shouldn't be mine to make.

But it's inevitable, incredible, incredulous, debter-full.
Despite daring the Devil my levels seem rather pitiful.
I've chosen what I could.
I've helped those that I loved.
I leveled with my pride
I think that should be good enough..
And yet it's constant, no remissions, without omission, this mission
Would have driven me, has driven me, mad.





Poetry by Phill
Read 961 times
Written on 2013-08-22 at 06:37

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


grizzedram
I like the line about the cigarette hanging like the things you should've said... badly paraphrased, sorry. But that line, most of that stanza, rings quite true. Often I end up smoking out in the dark alone feeling like that, though I've never articulated as elegantly as you have.
2013-08-23