you tell me i'm lying
when i say i want to be alive
but that isn't true
i really do

when i say i want to be alive
theres a reason i say it
its me calling out
because being alive isnt what im doing right now

no
what im doing
is slumping around
afraid of real change
afraid things will stay the same

i do not have a ball and chain
i am a ball and chain
to do the bidding of certain people
at the expense of others
i am a ball and chain
when i am pulled
instead of going along
the best i can give you
is a slow roll

things seem so far away from you
far away from my face
is it real if i cant see why?
i cant see why i want to die

"Why can't you shut up?"

Says the knight to the bard
For the knight knows agony
When the bard sings his song.

"Are you mad?" asks the lyricist, expression surprised.  
"Anyone would be joyed to hear their battles become rhyme."

But the knight wasn't happy, for he knew the truth              
That the painful deaths of many men hid behind the tune.
That the failure as a protector would haunt him in song
That sleepless nights without father, husband, or son is what he did wrong.

A pessimist others call him, a realist stands true
For reality is too harsh to be handled by a fool.

and just like the young and foolish icarus
we, too, had the confidence
of the wings that gives us flight
and we, too, have soared the same sky as he did
and failed to reach our ******
for the sun, with its radiance
burneth the wings we have made for us
and plummet us into an ocean
the never-ending abyss of blue
and the inevitable void

the ***** atmosphere              a clear skyline.

a pumping subconscious       a motionless intention.

a bright gray omen                 a dull red novel.

(shattered and picked up, shattered and picked up.)



looking forward snowing      scared of winter.

cramming the leaks                draining the pond.

tiredly awaken                        clear-headed asleep.

(buried and dug out, buried and dug out.)



imagining a garden                 mowing the sprouts.

chasing the stars                      scrubbed by the dusks.

lamenting the stream              exalting the clock.

(grasped and slipped away, grasped and slipped away.)

I am a glass half full
Transparent and beautiful in my own right
But muddled
I am a glass half empty
Like the realist I am, knowing that sometimes a glass is just a stupid glass

What does a glass matter when all of them are ***** because I couldn't get out of bed today to get the dishes done
Why should I care about half empty or half full when I should definitely just drink the stupid water because I haven't all day and my head is beginning to ache due to dehydration

Why is it that sometimes I can take my life by the reigns and be the best version of myself but that other times it feels like some unknown variable has snatched them away from me and is driving down the freeway in the wrong direction going 90 miles an hour

How hard is it to believe me when I say that I'm okay
I am okay
I swear
But I'm drowning in a sea of my own tears
Oh dear, I wish I hadn't cried so much
Now I'm losing my way, falling deeper into this hole in my head, losing myself and losing you

When the sun rises it will all be gone
I'll wake up and everything will return to normal
And I'll sit at the table with my glass half full.

please forgive my optimism,
im aware this is a dark place.
is the world going to ****,
are we going to be okay.

I have not much more i want to say,
yet so much more that I need too.
should I be silent today,
should tomorrows words be allowed to bleed through.

forgive me for my optimism.
I know what you are going through.