Free Write No. 79

Standing Woefully Still

 

 

Couldn’t say it was coming.
Didn’t think anyone was spare.
Yet,
I remain as I do for anyone,
as I don’t want to fail them,
there has got to be something.
Even if they don’t get it,
they’ll have something.
Remember once someday said,
you don’t have to clean up your act,
or do something that isn’t you,
but to know someone is looking for you.
And you choose to never be seen.
At least give them something to hope for.
Even by to by lie,
it was something for them alone.
Waiting forever a moment,
that something of a dream,
is close to being real.
Even though you don’t an inch.
The pain doesn’t grow,
and the weight that others lay,
don’t make who you are all the way.
But there is a hope in there.
Could be a straight out lie.
Or the painful truth.
Filled with woes as they come,
yet you remain as you do.
Not quite a soldier of war,
but you ain’t passing out peace flowers.
You stay in the middle of something.
Standing on a rite notion of anything.
Either you are drown in guilt.
Or living the high life.
There was just something,
that wasn’t there before,
but you don’t dare give it a name,
for if you do,
it might break that wonder,
you were hoping for.
Yet,
even I,
a king of fools,
no know bound at this moment.
Thriving for things,
that can’t be reached.
Yet,
even myself,
a queen of Adonis will,
know a will that breaks.
Breaking by the tiniest wind.
Ain’t no sorrow here.
Wicked rest when they are ready.
Paying for the fines,
that grow on trees faster than the green.
Pennies a day,
couldn’t bill the thoughts anyway.
I jester you not,
as the jack of trades,
meant a fate that tasted bitter.
Woefully as it may be now.
A melodrama is a much needed flair.
But the fuck the high heavens,
having such a blind eye,
as hell goes on with their dance.
No shame here,
as there was never meant to be any,
yet it plays out,
so everyone is on fair ground.
The moment the floor is lava,
who is really going to play with death.
When living itself,
is a prison of a silent nay.
I am no future teller.
Nor a friend to cry your tears on.
You are a person of your own right.
Living.
Puppets had it easier,
letting the strings be pulled.
No laugh matter now.
Shame is a tempo best played fast,
and in doubt of anything.
A fool I will remain,
because no one saw that coming.
Not even the joker of balance.
Play me like a fiddle,
see what happens fucker.

 

 

 

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