For Lack of a Better Way

Read these words, as they flow to chaos. The expression of rage inked across the page. You think you know me, you don't know ****. Scared and tattooed, I hide all of it. And if I gave a reason why. The answer would be; what's mine is mine My past, My pain, My life, My way, It's none of your business beyond this place. Criminal white collar selling nothing for gains. Only chameleons side step the blame. Never in my life have I lived this way. Yet still it seems I'm pushing up stream. A sea of white collars, against the grain. I swear there must be a better way. With far too many bills to pay, I'm forced to keep pushing in directions I hate, for lack of a better way. And so I'll let emotion flow across the page. So I can say, what I need to say, for lack of a better way.