How long has it been since I have understood the dividing line between right,wrong and good?
Too long, I think.
Too long, I know.
Far too long for any good to show.
I want you to speak, I want you to run.
I wish for all my deeds to be undone.
I write the same: over and over.
He looks at you, I know, but I want to hold her.
Ah!
Vain repetition.
I have died many times yet wound up in the same position.
Each time I pen, I feel its a must.
Each time is to dispel eternal lust.
Maybe the page will feel my addictions.
Maybe the truth will disarm my condition.
Maybe your voice will ease my ancient rage.
I think not, for I am held captive by the stage.
Haha. A laugh leaks from your lips, pursed.
Only you know the extent to which I am cursed.
My rhymes are menial, inherent at best.
Merely a mirror to the organ inside of my chest.
So look. I am available for all to see.
They are welcome to witness how complacently I bleed.