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.
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