Things I Tell Myself

For my pacification I do supply

suppositions to dance with my

concerted effort, lost in my night,

to take hold and revel in delight.


In my reflections I ponder my haven.

Those who left me are mistakened

they’re not those of great persuasion;

from deep inside I have awakened.


I find myself bruised not destroyed.

Hands dealt me left me not so poised

to cater or conform or even be coy,

and never will I be some playful toy.


So tightly wound you are insane,

but be not like the selfishly vain.

Try to exist on some other plane;

be what I can be and not the same.


School teachers they never taught

about the world’s danger so fraught

with peril you wish you had forgot.

I find that in youth I learned it not.


Everything upon this grand sphere

is defined by the things people fear.

Found you no one is really sane here.

Vexed you tightly hold a crucifix near.


Life has left you in morbid darkness.

Your battle within now does address

all things you can begin to try confess.

Do what you must to stand the duress.

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