i started this poem a while ago. don’t remember if i posted it or not.
but here it is:
What’s Left is Me
Rage ringing in my ears
the anger stomping out the fear
I’ll strike with every downbeat
With blackened eyes I finally see
with a bruised heart I finally feel
with nothing to lose I have a will
with a cut throat i try to speak
with every injury what’s left is me
Now I am misfortune’s son
the one who lost before he even begun
the one who’s misery was won
by the prospect, idea, that he thought he was done
with the aches and the pains that this life brings
in the darkest of night I tried to sing
waiting for the sunrise to light my dreams
but with dreams you must do more than believe
so from the ash of my former self I scream
scream for the change I know I need
I’m down and out, but far from defeat
I may be hurting but I’m not deceased
