Tip Me Over

I am a rover, I roll like a bolder, and as I grow older, my life has grown colder.

Forlorn hope of the stone wolf, staring out cross a lone gulf,

Wishing for help but trapped in this hell, in the distance I hear the knell of the bell,

The right words could save me, but you’d think I’m crazy, outside it won’t phase me, inside I hate me.

I wish I could let loose, but I am the recluse whose refuge is refuse,

When I reach for the sky, I feel I’m alive, perhaps its a lie, perhaps I have died,

Became a ghost while I searched for the coast, wishing for a host to love me the most,

Thorns form a crown, from my brow life drips down, past a frown with no sound as it drops to the ground

My belly swells with the things I can’t tell, if I failed if I fell, there is no one to tell,

bursting inside, all the things I can’t hide, mouth open wide, but silent the cry,

I bite on my tongue, but I’m coming undone, I wish I could run, I pray for the sun,

My mouth fills with blood, teeth dam the flood, through cracks like a bud, pushed forth from the mud,

From crimson lips the violence drips, the silence ripped, I’ve lost my grip.

There is no containing, this pain that is staining, my will is waning, my thoughts are draining.

Into a pool, the blots plot the page, formed from rage, and haze of days,

Stillness broken by my own illness. Why must I feel this? Why can’t I heal this?

I’ve tried and lied to hide the truth, and cried and cried with dreams of you,

How did I get here, so far but so near? The things I have let go, echo in my ear.

Too late to ask, with all that has passed, slipping so fast, from the desperate clasp.

As I pour out the slime, like death so sublime, mistakes and crimes, and all of them mine.

Here is who I am at my worst, cursed from my birth on this forsaken earth.

Within so much sin, to my heart it is pinned, I scream and I pray as I grasp for the wind.

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