Barreling

Narrow hallways in morning Where the sun wont come through I laid cramped on the floor through the night, painted blue Early sky with no warmth Like a push, but not forth Dragged behind my shortcomings Bitter, like a child being born Harrowing signs, I am in mourning Barreling down the familiar tunnel Painted on the walls are fiction And distorted ways of thought Painted on my skin Anticipant horrors, the weight of the drop And nearing the bottom, I set my gaze on those watching from the top Endless tragedies, my spirit bent by a massive truth Falling I learn to hate all too well I desecrate myself in life, working to ensure an effectively complacent end Don't look at me if you don't know how I don't want to show you Here, I've come to be inherently marred by the faults of my predecessors Whom I cannot rightly define myself from Further puzzled by the lessons the god presents, and how we've become so estranged from the story's start And then there are those who spot but don't point out the colorfully deranged hints of truth Sewn throughout my manic monologues and improvised performances They mirror me as we deflect the efforts of the sad clowns stirring behind our facades Suppressant coping mechanisms wearing an entertainer's mask I stop thrashing around in panic Slow motion plummet As I watch tears precede me in the fall down.