At the millstone,
a mile stone,
and an axe to grind.
Do I place here things I fear
Go pearl to the swine,
Or fill the trough with ink on pulp and see if they really notice.
See the sentimentalist resents
And the apologist repents
Daring to change the tense
Intensely unimpressed
Staring in the same duress
Taking liberties so immense.
And none of it makes sense.
I should be happy
And yet I look at horses teeth
And wonder why they smile,
I truly love some of thee
And yet you're so 2-d
Then I wonder who am I.
My scraps being weighted
As well as my gold,
A new tale warrants no new found fame,
We play this game of relevance
Inelegant and yet.
The fact your eye is grazing here, that you've not turned, been spurned away by this lashing, a beast thrashing in his cage, enraged by nothing but his own unfounded rage. The fact you haven't turned away only leads me to beg that you please stay. You are the friend I'm in need of today.
I've tried.
I've tried to keep up
To be everything to everyone
A small circle in the grand scheme, and I fall short, radiant but not that bright.
