Search

Horribly Lonesome

It’s true, I used to feel it pure to play the broken 
Such a slave to the artist in me 
Bleeding from the heart made me seem open
in some self-righteous display of defeat
But I see it now,
the way it fell out as self-deprecating; my subconscious release 
When I wrote it down, the way it felt drowning and gasping for air being...

Horribly lonesome 
And tired of falling apart at the seams 
Everyone knows some sweet, subtle way of conjuring up their relief 
I’m trying to hold some resemblance to a man unafraid of defeat 
But horribly lonesome is what I’ve become
by always pretending to be

Now I’ve grown
There’s gotta be a way to fake the progress
toward who I was sure I would be  
There’s a noticeable change in age and context,
But failure is still constant in me
I don’t know if there’s a known way to find the value of a man
Who’s never whole, but somehow feels alright?

No comments:

Post a Comment