Throw This Poem In Your Lake Of Melted Weapons

For every idiom written, there is another
To contradict it.

Wipe your tears away with the same
Finger you point and spit with.

I fear we all figuratively bathe
In emotional abuse far more often
Than we’d like to admit.

This is an area of exploration
That we shouldn’t restrict!

Self inflicted, most.
Though mental and spiritual
Victims we all play,
Truly grievous cases leave
Accusations hollow at best.

We can’t respect the dead who are trying to rest?

A solid grip on reality
Is impossible for most.
We all have very real problems
We mistake for our nature,
Very unimportant matters
That we doctor up and suture.

Yes, pain is different for all
And la-dee-la-dee-da.
Push to that point of failure
And break through the wall! There
Is a direct correlation between
Sweat seared patches and those who
Triumph over themselves.

How deep are you willing to delve?

Take your time, its fine
Sift through the catalogs, the
Brine. Let me know who
Your next appointed jesus is.

I’ll be busy bashing my head
Against the same damn things
Trying to tear down the same
Damn walls with what refreshed
Passion I can bring.

But at least I’m correctly
I’m trying to read the lyrics
Of a song I know I can’t sing.

I’m tried, and unfit.
You’re tired, and can’t handle it.

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