My final chapter’s uncompleted but I’m asking you to read it
Neither pastor nor the deacon could succeed to pacify my demons
Nay, I can’t provide the reasons for my sullen, morbid state
It’s like my mind’s horrid estate was tended to by Norman Bates
The chorus sang, I kneeled and prayed, but failed to seize the day
Painted brightly but inside I’m hardboiled like an Easter egg
Got a chip on the shoulder that’s a little bit more of the cry-on-me sort
Cuz life’s put me in more pressing situations than an ironing board
I’m not striving towards enlivening rewards on my broken path
Hopelessly overmatched by the open gashes from my stolen past
My emotions’ total lack of full compassion holds me back
It’s got me frozen in a child’s pose without the yoga mat
My woeful tact in social acts grows, in fact, I’m acting crazy
Been hampered lately by excuses thinner than packaged gravy
My hapless frailty has a way of aggravating my poor judgment
I’m like a snail, when outside my shell, I just feel more sluggish
My shortcomings get more crushing and soul sucking every day
Wish this fettered state was swept away by the heavy weight of a trebuchet
Suppress the rage and stress impatiently, wishing all this was done
But I’m too proud to take the pills, too scared to swallow the gun
Plus it’s a godless affront to the omniscient one who gave us breath
So I’ll wait, bereft, until fate collects its gainly bet on my tainted flesh
With waning strength, and unease I fight the struggle to sleep at night
As I sway through these days between the branches on the tree of life
