Now I Cannot Write

jake allen sharp

I fall on my face and I break my pride

Each time it feels a little more has died

Am I the same man that I used to be?

Broken and wounded and in misery
Filled with an aching that reaches my soul

Lost and I’m spinning out of control

I seek refuge as I flee from my thought

I try to recall the good I was taught
Laugh and point fingers at the poor

Play the part of a wolf at the door

Blood boils as it runs through my veins

But just enough of my sanity remains
Now I cannot write what I am expected to write. I will type as the words fall from my fingers onto a screen, nothing is planned, but kinda of like this life. I don’t understand some stars are so bright. I can’t pretend to set a course and plan it out…

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