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Excuses
Figuring out an excuse
to let it go
to loosen the chains
as confined as being imprisoned
the ceiling becomes my skies
and the ground becomes my limit
and hell, if its beneath my feet
becomes my habitate
I can't sense my home around here
not even a moment to hope
or a second of silence
to predict the next
What's life engaged in?
Where does it belong?
yesterday?
I wished I knew
At least then there's answers
Solutions to these questions I've frequently asked
rather than answers in forms of questions
Its hard to erase these mistakes
from its own true self..
all that ever persisted
now returns for revenge
The rain couldn't go on
not without me in it..
this time around...
staying around for it to fall
I will