some days I drag the low end
but it doesn’t matter it doesn’t bother me I
won’t be writing any suicide notes on that account I’m
not fixing to die anytime soon I just began learning how to live but I
have circumstances to accommodate and those can be
a bitch but I
can’t complain
I won’t reach out if
there’s no need it’s not just my pride there’s
no point in me spilling my guts if I’m
only crying wolf it doesn’t pay to take yourself too seriously when
you are subject to sudden change I might foment a little poison in my cup from time to
time but I always have the antidote in my
pocket
I take
life as it comes I make no demands of anyone and I
only do what I want to do so you can stow
your neutral gaze I’ll have passion in my playpen and the freedom to live as I please
I’m
just a dog with a bone still fighting a war that
ended long ago I could tell you things you
would not believe so I won’t waste words you’d
only call me a liar but you wouldn’t know which me is really me or if
my words are matched by deeds
which me is me? the crazy
wild impulsive me? or
the darkly reclusive suicidal me? someone
picked me up and shook my shadow loose now
the pieces have fallen back to earth but nothing is where
it ought to be I tried to run away
but you can’t lose your shadow even if the sun shines a little less
brightly for you
everything happens
for a reason or it doesn't it's hard to tell when you so often see just
what you expect to see my story is not a sad
story my
story is an abstract about a boy who survived a
storm he thought would never end but
it was during that terrible storm that
he discovered he carried a fire within he learned to kindle that flame at will and
always keeps the makings close to hand
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