This is painted on an extra piece of the wrapping paper I’d painted and used for the gift package I put together for my mother some weeks ago.
I know my songs, poor live recordings already, have probably gotten worse- looser and overall messes, but that’s what would define me as of now and apologizing for it changes none of that. I’m basically running my self down physically by eating little and over exercising, all to feel as though I’m getting somewhere and to numb feeling so badly about all that’s happened. It’s hard to hide and every time I go a little too quiet, my mother brings up some random talk of the hospital.
It really doesn’t matter to me what happens now. Going to therapy as I used to gave consistency, which is gone now. And the more I think of the beginning and where I was when I sought help, what I’ve done since and am at this moment is nothing to be proud of or deserving of more time.
So, that’s what this poem below is about; my expectations and where I’ve failed. some lines were left out as lyrics in my recording, but the point is there.
I started out tied down,
Lights out in a locked up room –
But however it was, I wrestled my way through
To the outside for you.
Less with the expectation I would be taken a saved life.
I needed someone to witness and hear why it is
I deserve to die.
Yet I am here to say it,
By this needle and thread I survived.
Losing myself to the same shameful loops –
Wasted time of a fool, I survive…
And still you remain at the corner of mind
Refusing to refuse
Of all people, all us pieces, all us problems – Me
How is it you believe? Is it honor?
The patience and strength far and ever out of my reach?
Strangled by your dreams and those of the angel
I only wish I could be…