Storyteller [Phantom}
Trying to tell my stories to the ones that will listen. Can't be allowed to sow such derision. You thought it was a one off given my sweet sweet disposition, but it's the standard quo and this energy is my truest religion. Stuck my neck out for one too many times. Saw that same neck on the chopping block as I was next in line. To me there is no difference between reason and rhyme. Between puns and splines. Between backbones and spines. Why should there be? If you stand up for what's right you have the right to stand this time. I hate congregations and lines; real big waste of my time. Slowly counting the forgiveness I've given and getting close to the 70x7 times. I feel invalidated because of things I didn't see. Personal attacks of character are like daggers that are sticking out of me. Wrapped up in layers of personal and professional blankets. Out here steady searching for seals of approval and people willing to stamp it. Steady searching for souls to approve and small quiet coves to lay in. Brandishing such a weapon relentlessly is sure to give cuts that will bleed you empty. I ain't got no time to remain so sentient when there are forces that act on me to which I can't relent. I must give in and pray that I don't create again the one that I fear. When that voice starts a clicking it's my will that it's tickling. All it ever was, was a clock that is ticking. Looking at my fist now, clenched, it is bloodless stricken, chapped, cracked, and callous from holding on to things and people that I should have let go of ages ago. No apparent reason, but like a ghost limb that I've cut off once before. I've felt this familiar feeling of that useless thing hit the floor. Looking back at it, wouldn't change a thing, I don't need that useless heart anymore. Been alone all this time. I didn't need it. Didn't need them anyways.