A Little Time Out Of My Day (Poetry Sidebar: Vol Seven)
It's time to decide what this art means
At least to me
Is it tugging heart strings
Or an echo chamber for hollow screams
That never reach
Practice what I preach
But I'm too empty to fill these cups
And the ones that bring me joy
Know that I am not enough
So is this place
An escape
Where I document my anxiousness
I hate to give
You feelings to relate to
I find I more likely to fall apart when the days through
I can mask and let my past play background until I'm alone
Bury the me that has to grieve
That has depression so complex its...
What's your intention?
I didn't come to argue
Well, lower your voice
The choices
Like picking poisons
How do I want to hurt me
Before the end
Play pretend
I guess the best I can be is honest
Even at cosmic conscience
I fear my own ignorance
Hypocrites
Write deliberate lies
And the pride dies
Guess this was a glimpse inside my minds eye
When the pen moves
-A. Souza