It’s like words chasing after a lost cause,
me breathing into you these 16 bars;
trying to resuscitate the life we had together,
when by design “we” were never meant to be.
Together we grew with blanket statements,
like first you dream it then you take it;
no one bothering to point out all the
dreamers lining the streets that didn’t make it.
Vocalized trouble granting easy access,
so not likely to part with anger’s luxuries
– still, the casualty of thought has me second guessing
the exaltation of my own capabilities.
No one teaches contentment as a virtue anymore,
but rather a gift of the pragmatic and mundane.
However, as we run quickly towards life’s curfew
sorrow becomes not a worthy refrain.
So, I’ll go on shouting into oblivion,
hands up and ready