The bare-knuckle ride – abated breath and a silver-tongue only no-one’s been listening

Against the grained existence, crumbling knees / worn n torn n tremendously pleading
Once upon a time this man-child appeared pleasing on the eye for promiscuous behaviour

All states of stare rightfully relinquished, a nasty uppercut forced to the pulsating throat – a guttural thing of decidedly upside-down beauty

Speaks when he is spoken to, people have turned his milk sour by the failed power invested in them
And the pen pleads all by itself, holds hope for ink-arisen hostage – a sacrilege feeling of desperation aside ultimate discomfort

It does hurt when all of your personality has been duck-taped and completely silenced by the hands of treacherous time

Lonely carries with it these constant ‘if-only’s’
When going through the motions brings with it an ocean of pain

They say that hell is a stepping-stone filled with courageous intent

But they also say many a misinformed thing