Is it human nature to melt?
asking for a friend...
I sit down…
Breathe.
Try to center myself.
I'm a sinner myself,
Entrails trapped under a sinister pelt.
Ones I don't trust.
This human skin just like the earth's crust,
Barely hiding us from the hell that birthed us.
But who are we?
The self we create from the pain.
A hollow shell,
One that melts in the rain.
Runs away and see all my life in a stain…
I use my pain as the paint.
Cover up who I am ,
try to portray who I ain't.
the fear of not being enough
Is a specter I just can't escape.
Lurking over my shoulder
Won't forget what I told her,
Even when the words were just scribbles and fakes.
Instead of let the rain take it away,
I'd rather struggle and scrape.
Plot an escape…
But remain stuck,
Diabetic man eating the cake.
A slave to the crave.
Which means that I'm enslaved to the rage,
Which means I'm a slave to the grave.
When my ancestors were slave to a knave…
I find myself in their foot steps again.
What have I gained in the time since?
They paid their dues and I paid rents.
I chased the pages that made sense,
Rather than write my own story and take hints…
The hints from nature aren't as loud as the trauma they handed out.
Matter fact,
Drowned out by the laughter of clowns.
How often I've laughed with my lips turning down.
All the frowns that added spiritual pounds.
How can I leave the ground with my colon weighing me down?
Full of shit.
Foolishness.
What's my gut got to say to me now?
Can I hear it through the trash that I've filled it with?
The food I ate,
The ignorance served on dirty plates…
I had to do it.
No other calories were there to take.
Survival mode today and yesterday.
And today is tomorrow so I earned my fate…
Is what we learned to say.
Denying the inspiring of our current state.
Forced us to take our turn but they turned away,
From the life they made…
More interested in saving face.
As if the universe will save their place.
So many lies about what makes a person great.
Fill your purse,
Even if you up the murder rate .
My lips are pursed in rage
How did I get caught up in this gilded age?
Why was I brought up on this stilted stage?
Why can't I still the rage…?
Why can't my heart be an example of the steel displayed?
By those who's "I love you" is only filled with hate,
The unmoving movement of heart beats construed to cage…