Was thinking long and hard about giving up writing.
Convinced myself that I'm a quitter and there's no sense in fighting
To keep the only thing that kept me far from the edge
But I can't pretend.
Pretend that it isn't my Fortress of Solitude
That's honoured me with solemn servitude.
That it hasn't helped put me to rest, thought and mind,
By accepting the past on paper and keeping it close behind.
I was thinking logically and analytically
Because it seems to be the only thing I'm good at.
Thinking about everything I've seen and everyone I've fought to keep,
They're all gone now, only to be found in memories.
They say Poets and Artists are the architects of Heaven
And only they know it's the hardest when no one buys what they're selling.
No one wants to listen and no one wants to see
Because everyone's so sure of what you're supposed to be.
But what are you supposed to do when you've dedicated your life to understanding?
When you can empathize with your brother, but your own sight you can't stand it.
When you feel that there's a missing piece and so the wholes hurting.
Swim out long past the reef and any safety that you keep to do some soul searching.
Days and months fighting fears, love and tears, digging the hard soil.
Only to find that missing piece you desperately seek is hidden deep beneath.
When you've found the straw that broke the Camels back
Only to find there's a million more underneath.
What are you supposed to do when you follow the chains
Long past the plains in hopes to break the link.
Kill the ties that bind and have held you for so long,
Only to find there is no ball, you were free all along.
And in your days of darkness with no life to sip or sup
All the hands around your back were never meant to keep you up
And all of those who have kept you down will fight to keep you dancing to their beat.
Any impenetrable man once stabbed in the heart, will crumble with defeat.