I feel its time to turn the tables
But the tables keep turning on me
Then I say put down that coffee…take a stand
But they stand on top of me
I look up in the hope my eyes will communicate the turmoil
But they shut their eyes and close their hearts
My fingers ache to type words of woe
But the woe numbs before the words reach my tips
My heart feels hopeful
But my mind forgets the meaning of ‘hope’
Who am I, my soul asks?
Who were you meant to be?
Are you just a struggling being?
Or are you more than the eye can see?
I feel no remorse for my flaws
I make no excuses for my truths
If you can’t handle the best I have to offer
You’ll never know what I could’ve been
Forget what you saw in me because that faded
Think of all you said to me because you left me jaded
All that lives now is a dying brain
And fingers with a dull ache
Passion is a fleeting joy gone in a blink
Apathy persists with dreams of anarchy
Catharsis seems a viable option now
But how is the mind to heal when beaten down?
Watch and learn for someone else might come your way
And you’ll know not what you had or what you let get away.