Dec 15, 2019
Craving more out of Life
40 hours is killing me yet, without it kills me too. I don’t know what to do, Do you? Giving my everything to scrape The bottom of some made up barrel, While I’m constantly scared that the massive mess of the careless will let me go, So I keep going, and over-time I’m showing less growth.
Trying to add some meaning To the gleaning, fading waste of short time, The crime of rhyming is chiming Towards its final toll, and I’ve lost track of the goal that I used to Know so well.
I don’t write for an audience. I don’t write for some insane internal seance. I write ‘cause I don’t know what else to do..?!..