Twenty-two years of anxiety
And you say that I haven’t been through the wars
Trust me, this wasn’t a choice, far more akin to a life sentence of sorts
Where’s my Medal of Honor, my standing ovation, my rapturous round of applause
Jaws of hope suddenly shut closed
Priorities all over the place, my mind left addled and completely askew, only ever to be witnessed by a chosen few
You didn’t know me way back then, luckily for you
Unforgettable people courtesy of the silent pew they masterfully set in place for me
A willing congregation, I no more than their anticipatory sensation
Atrocious pain, an unmerciful thirst to unearth the breath that never came
Where, oh where do I point my particular finger of blame
Get to lock someone up, toss away the key
For the years of disdain all too unjustifiably heaped upon me
In an instance
Masked in blasphemous permanence
Left ashen-faced, attempting to pick up each and every one of these pieces
A mesmerising jigsaw I only seem to be prepared to paw at right now
On this electus will most certainly plough