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
