(no subject)
the sentiment is the same
and i cannot promise that this will ever subside
the last thing i ever had was any shame
and why should i stifle what won't stop burning
all those pitchforks and fires? i think they're bluffing
but i promise to keep coming even if they aren't
and if it's you who leads that lynching mob
i guess i will find a way to deny what it appears
i have done so well up until this moment
so what is it stopping me dead at the threshold with fear?
i'll tell you, for the hope of regret when i think of it
knowing i'll lack the ability and instead feel i am impaired
i think it is the $2.95 i spend every thursday along with my coffee
on those wilted golden weeds that have accumulated in my head
and not on your doorstep, where they were intended to be destined
but wound up amongst the clutter of the dumpster at my work
as a chosen reminder to put these thoughts to rest