Is all this my fault,
Or am I the effect.
Somewhere between lost and who I’ve become,
You’ll find a corpse my mind used to call home.
When you try and you try to do things with direction,
If the compass’ not yours,
Then Lost is your version of perfection.
“Free the heart, free the mind”
Is the claim of a generation.
One that I never felt home to or seemed to fit in.
For me, its control, the brain and its function.
The only thing,
- Breath(e) -
Should be free
Self-control, becomes a hole, down, which I’m blamed
Up before dawn, but they’ll pay no attention
I say “yes”, they hear “no”
I’m a farce in their eyes.
My requests for attention are met with disdain,
Invitation to partake is, sadly, accepted
Afraid to offend? Or afraid to spend, time.
- Time -
So expensive.
Spent on a whim, withheld for no reason.
When this life passes by and our time has hit zero,
The infinity that follows,
- Lost -
Gone from the expanse, what difference remains
True self.
- Corpse -
No longer hospitable, I’ll wander instead in this body not fitting to match this head.
