#21
Self Help Blues
#21
To reach equilibrium
A pilgrimage first to the place
Of broken things.
To pick the bones of lamentation.
And stand amongst the wreckage.
To savour peace
Mouth the taste of bitter disappointment.
The metal blood tang on the tongue
From life’s hard knocks.
To find yourself
Tear the mask from your face.
Look inside.
What cowers in the hole?
To be reborn
The trial by fire will burn
And rid dead wood.
To see us cry in clearing smoke.
All this, to fool
And euphemise into thinking
there’s a reason for anything.
Truth is, it’s lies.
