Meaningless

I wasn’t allowed to breath,

Or to the take that step,

Or to see what is beneath a covered grave.

What do you wish,

When the others can do it all,

To be allowed to suffer?

I guess there’s nothing more for me,

I have been held to a higher standard,

Endlessly repeating.

Recursively I roll in bed,

And sometimes I sit and cry,

But the reality is that I have one option.

I have one path before I die,

You know what it is don’t you?

I do and I always did.

Stability and fragility between the aisles,

And I watch in wonder as the others don’t sit with this weight,

But yet I’m the one in the wrong.

Others can't see this,

They don’t feel this,

And they can’t relate.

I feel like my entire life has felt shallow on earth,

Like the creeks of the puddle,

And yesterday’s forgotten bread.

I couldn’t even sit down and cry,

Because dare I not be allowed,

More importantly not able.

Not willing to sacrifice against the grain,

In this day and age (the ‘modern’ era),

Worst yet is my own delapitated self image.

You can’t justify the means,

When the ends don’t match your perception,

And the strings attached to my arms dangle ever so gently beneath the soil.

Dead to rights,

And dead to me,

My life has been nothing but a set of rules and tribulations all designed to show me that I can’t.

To be honest,

Even now though much of it undoubtably false,

I know some of it is true.

That kills me,

And I will die with that,

Completely powerless.

I can’t help but feel restless at night,

I can’t help but recognize the opinions of others,

And yet I feel so damn alone and without solace or retribution.

It’s a meaningless point to make,

And the voices that speak don’t hold weight against the wind of time,

But I guess that’s just the way that it is (tomorrow’s a different day, maybe).

Should I force my hand down the throat of god and rip out the heart I'm damn well owed,

I can’t do that,

It’s not within my power.

Authority to do so is renegated to the back corners of the slothering mouths of the vengeful,

And I’m damn vengeful,

The resentment towards my birth and the states of those that raised me keeps me up at night.

The tiring existence and day to day gander are not what bother me,

It’s the immutable facts of my life and the unstoppable movement of water against the breakwall,

Eventually it will come down and be left in dust.

What more of me?

In the shadows of the men that crumble with power in hand,

I don’t have a right to demean or stand between when all I want is one thing.

The gift of life,

The chance to set things right,

Some of us are set in this world damned to swallow the holy spirit.

I feel absolutely without meaning.