If I
Cannot
Be the
Best, then
Why
Do I
Hover
Here?
Stuck in
The thought
That there's
Something
Magnificent
Waiting
For her
At the
End of
My long
And
Lonely
Wonder.
Should I
Laugh and
Lie and
Lull away
The lazy nights
When dusk
Is now
Upon us?
In all
This new
Glory
A new
God is
Born with
A wide
Gaping
Gash in
His side,
I point
Above
And cry.
His blood
Is pouring
Like wine
Into
The mouths
Of all
The opened
Eyed lives
Waiting
For his
Glory to
Pacify
Their dull
And pathetic,
Their fantasy
Filled lives.
And what if I can't satisfy
The mass of millions
Lying before my cracked
And bleeding hands?
What if I can't paint
A picture to impress
Upon their soft minds?
I make promise for the future,
A dream to be dead and glorified.
I open up my fingertips
And let the flood make it's cry
To the dead and dying citizens
All swimming in my mind.
But what if a man
In a fake persona
Steals my woman
And i'm left
Alone to rust?
What if I'm left
Behind because
My paint was thin
And washed away
By the waters of
A pretty picture
With no signs,
No symbols to
Direct the soul
To paths not
Worn by the
Footsteps
Of a myriad
Of Lies?
What Can I do then but die?
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