(no subject)
And even in the face of adversity, those moments where we choose to succumb to the pressure and crawl into the lower levels, deciding to be something less than we really are supposed to be, I can find myself an enemy.
Anytime, anywhere, I could find another 19 reasons to keep on living till janruary fifteenth, and prove that not only was life better 16 years ago, it was at all time high 40 something years ago. And I can think of another reason to live another 60 years, and thats so I can write the tiny words on your gravestone. A whisper that only you and I will understand, and anyone else looking down will walk perplexed.
No, I know exactly who you are. And I'm not that.
Think of the calling that you've done, and the failure you've achieved. A benchmark that all other failures in life grow pale, in your shadow.
I can run around the crescent still, and hide in the basement from your voice. I could still find my throat in your hands, and if that is your definition of a man, I find myself lost in a world that is claimed in the hypocrisy I learned so well from a teachers voice.
In the same situation I found myself in gripping tears, and calapsing under my own fears, and no voice could console the horror I found in myself that night.
That I could fail myself by such a drop, a complete lost cause in trying not to become what I feared so much.
It's scary that I've fallen.
ANd I love that it's being mocked.
Mock On This.
It's The Last Thing You'll Have a Chance on.
Anytime, anywhere, I could find another 19 reasons to keep on living till janruary fifteenth, and prove that not only was life better 16 years ago, it was at all time high 40 something years ago. And I can think of another reason to live another 60 years, and thats so I can write the tiny words on your gravestone. A whisper that only you and I will understand, and anyone else looking down will walk perplexed.
No, I know exactly who you are. And I'm not that.
Think of the calling that you've done, and the failure you've achieved. A benchmark that all other failures in life grow pale, in your shadow.
I can run around the crescent still, and hide in the basement from your voice. I could still find my throat in your hands, and if that is your definition of a man, I find myself lost in a world that is claimed in the hypocrisy I learned so well from a teachers voice.
In the same situation I found myself in gripping tears, and calapsing under my own fears, and no voice could console the horror I found in myself that night.
That I could fail myself by such a drop, a complete lost cause in trying not to become what I feared so much.
It's scary that I've fallen.
ANd I love that it's being mocked.
Mock On This.
It's The Last Thing You'll Have a Chance on.