beyond repair
the water bubbles, and toils in its’ troubles.
Too long for safety, too long for joy.
teaming with visions of perfection,
of which, the word itself cannot provide example,
of this the tongue will never taste, nor sample,
of this voice, will neither speak or bramble.
life’s just a gamble.
you get what your given, you take it and go.
or maybe you stay, to ponder, wander thoughts of fairness.
all that comes from a look in the mirror,
is a clean face and bitter self-awareness.
do you hate what you see?
not out, but inside yourself?
remove what remains and dust off the shelf.
to believe you’re the sole attraction, and expect a reaction,
is enjoying a bowl of pride soup,
cooled by desperate need of attention.
misconceived ideas of conceit and modesty.
clever silence is a rat in a mouses guise.
and it’s passed the point of ones simple goodbyes.
explanations are up to order,
overlooked and hidden by your own secure borders.
a hoarder,
of feelings and regrets.
unable to rid, or ride out your self-inflicted threats.
your past becomes your present, and future’s non-existent.
the insistent dwelling on what could’ve, would’ve, should’ve been.
unspoken words are noisy cars in “no flow”, “stop and stop” traffic.
controlled by endless red stop lights, burning bright,
beside buildings of hopes and promises,
some grow, some fall, build up tall to crumble.
and amidst your broken city, falling to it’s knees,
your subconscious,
conflicted by the passion of want, and the courage to do what’s needed,
unable to find its’ way through the rubble, stumbles,
tripping on damaged memories,
shattered dreams,
chances that missed their fate, close these gates.
this is your city, your mind to care.
nothings beyond repair.
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