a single phrase strung from the ache of refusal.
His father holds the paint brush of his self-esteem
creating a masterpiece of hesitation on his back,
just to watch him fall when the painting
gets too heavy to carry.
He exercises his spirit's strength,
trying to get a stronger grip
on any aspect of truth—
something never been given to him.
So he searches for the word ‘beautiful’
at the bottom of a nightly appetite,
feeding easy money to a broken woman.
He waits for happiness to fall
in the acidic rain drops dancing on his tongue,
caressing his breath with the controversy of
He thirsts for nothing more than peace
indulging himself within his mind,
hoping to fill his cup
with the drippings of a trip
he may never return from.
He carries a hippie mentality upon his shoulders;
his motions stirring to love everyone
but mind closed off to recieve.
Keeps love at arm’s reach
as if he’s allergic to the feeling.
He numbs himself of all human emotions,
only ever opens his mouth
when substance can speak for him.
He's too afraid to stand under the Son of God
because no one ever treated him right.
So, he walks under his own sky.
he has yet to realize that the sun he lives for
burns out every night.
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