Truth

I’ve grown tired and complacent

In this niche I’ve carved for myself

Silent and lonely I listen to voices

In my head and in the halls

Vibrations in the air

I can’t take it, I can’t take it

I scribble lines between the lines

Hoping to find something meaningful

I fill pages with repeated words

Meandering metaphors and verbose verses

Wondering when the ink will run out

That’s when I can finally stop

When this story has an ending

I can’t make it, I can’t make it

I’m willing to die if that’s what it takes

You’re not even willing to bleed

I say I’m not afraid of death

But every night I shake in fear

While I’m kept awake by gunshots

I’m a hypocritical hypochondriac

Afraid of everything because I do nothing

I can’t fake it anymore

2013