A 2.3 percent version of himself
Weeping into the unsavoury hours
Snivelling, to whimper aside whine
Bawling to stay in the game of two peculiar halves – to have and to have – Nots
The latter spatters to scatter atop
Scanty second place procedure
This appears to be his locked – in syndrome
Incompetent, incomplete
Feeling every next piece
Thrown into a lifelong panic of unfathomable discord
A most unforgiving lottery where the winners fail to prevail – upside down, bare – faced retrieval
Things simply taken away at ferocious will
What’s non – sensical beckons to boast, pours roared fire atop your lambasted face
A toast to abrupt nothingness
His teeth clatter a thousand miles per
Sent strangely mental when they, he, needed him the most
Left between and among
Crushed by your own mind in an agonised manner of which no one ever gets to comprehend to understand – quite can’t
Otherworldly aforementioned in between – perishing to breathe
A double – edged sword with bells upon
Jingle – jangle and they strangle you outright
He cracks time again, yet the light never gets in – L. Cohen sang it all wrong, he did indeed
The heart is moving to stand apart, yet the mind fails to unearth a way from intricately beneath – utterly unasked for prison sentence created within
Cherry – picked amongst the dreaded 2.3 percent
Cold sweats to set any man apart from the gladragged rest – tagged to smile and to live minus sudden wipe – out clause
There is a test then there is This
The Holy water had to have been dipped acidic