Whenever I see a sycamore tree
I get homesick
Now it's like I am shooting up roots
In another direction
Where viewer discretion is advised
The sycamore tree grows tall
Yet I have shortfall
Coz when its branch breaks it don't breakeven
The sycamore grows in time
But I never grew with freedom
Let my independence be retribution
For breaking out of confined institutions
Always suffering illusions of self affliction
It is a suicidal addiction
Sycamore you are evergreen
And my life is just upscene
This is a poem about somebody else
So don't worry yourself
The devil is right there in the details
You don't want to hurt yourself
For looking too closely
What have I become my sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away in the end
We get what we deserve
If we only let die and let live
Truth is like blood under your fingernails
You don't want to hurt yourself
By looking too closely
You right there in the mirror
Don't kid yourself
Looking too closely
Maybe I get famous as the man that can't be moved
I’m the man that can be moved
Inspired by the sycamore tree
Growing tall and can't be moved
Growing to the air and
Blowing in the wind care free….
This will never be as good as
the classic to live and let die
but to let it go I will try
mama I aint calling you out
I know... I did say goodbye
many love ones almost never
get that chance
however it kind of got me thinking
who am I kidding
I was so use to living in confined space
that it eroded my mind's thinking spaces
it was not always things within my control
I sucked at letting it go
did I ever learned from my failures?
of which it was a lot at times
enough to let you go out of your mind
while I'm awake
you have no trouble sleeping
I guess when a heart breaks
it don't breakeven
praying to a god
I don't believe in
I've been running
trying to be one who sees
I've working on salvation
out on my knees
trying escape damnation
it is something to look into
when I cross that bridge
if time could be frozen
I'll keep it in the fridge
to melt slowly to moments
that's enjoyable
moments before the fall
end up in that deafening silent
panic stricken call
then there the is regret
for not letting go...
Past dweller healed by time
Second hand ticked, curse expunged
A fellow, awaits on twelve
As arrived, nightmare has fallen
“Only through time, time is conquered”
-T. S. Eliot-