Cycle Of Tearz

Movement is eternal and nowadays,
My feet itch.
Why use the nails on my finger tips to scratch what’ll leave when,
I get up and strut my legs across a grass field full of seeds and,
Sunshine allowing me to water them with my blood,
Sweat and tears?

This?
Never stops.
My Mind.
The Pain.
My Palms.
The Pen.
The Page.
The Props!…

I might’ve tarried in Hell before making it to Heaven.
But,
The Divine acted as my stimuli to upstage every demon seen rolling through my mind…
Where was I,
After giving up my heart to whom said would stay by my side?
In a Crisis…

Crying!
Boiling in the inside,
As all that released was steam from the fire burning in my ribs!
I,
A progeny of demons cut from the outer surface of Gehenna-like land,
Drifting into bright skies on a cloud where I reign high…

A King once poor,
Down on his luck?
Now drowning a truckload on a family who abandoned me,
For another drunk losing his sanity!
As I regain my own,
Flourishing through every blessing God handed me!…

Like,
Both eviction notices,
For throwing bits of truths everybody else couldn’t notice in,
A glass house glistening with lies from a chauvinist,
Who broke his own door of opportunities into pieces…

I’m glad to separate and liberate myself with good reason.
Before they assimilate my Light and use it to venerate their own demons,
Beneath Cimmerian shades I refuse to stand under while deserted in a city reaching its melting point…

What other choice do I have,
Bashed,
Battered and gashed?!
Over a decision to dump shots down a drain where their guilty conscious lies?
Fighting back by throwing out liquor bottles they believed would allow me to die!
Striking back!
By cutting out all the weeds growing in my troubled mind.
And,
Fortunately,
That means distancing myself from everyone who said I did not deserve life…