Once a young boy enamored by the things that you gave me. Now a young man you wouldn’t try, cause all you turned out to be was a fallacy that I outgrew quickly. With a busted hand and a bad knee, the patterns ossify. Your sorrow’s magnified. The culprit will be tried. I’ll gather fragments in the palm of my hand to self-reflect on the coward who took the opportunity to turn their back on me. You left me standing there all alone praying to a Jesus. Something I don’t believe in. So now I’m self medicated to block out everything, including walls you built around me. And I’ve been dodging demons as a past time, at this point I’m not even sure if I’m alright. You couldn’t find time. You'll never find time. I’m not sad, I’m through sulking. I’m not breaking, I’m not buckling.
