Heaters Stop Banging At Some Point

Observant and patient,
Yet,
Racing against the Master Clock.
Tick-tock!
It goes,
Whether you’re the master or not.
Yet,
Eternal I feel when washing away the sins of a past now floating on the rocks…

But,
Why do I feel life’s at a dead end any time I’m around,
Them?
They whom spit out flesh!
When feeding off a body of work manifesting a different sense of peace?

There has to be a reason,
And,
I may have an idea.
When I rest at week’s end after hours of writing up!
A story one would be proud to live,
Doubters sift through every one of your scars they’ve helped to imprint on your skin within secrecy.
Marring the beautiful image they envied and became sick of seeing…

But,
I’ve learned to Be!
Without appeasing thee,
By displaying sorrows that once defeated me.
No matter what dirty word tries stinging me!
Tears either water seeds of Poison Fruit,
Or,
Help grow the genius you were given for change in a world full of demons weakening your inner sense of being…

Graceful and ageless,
Yet,
Bracing myself for a fight against rotting flesh.
And,
A blotted memory scrambled accidentally by crushing the eggs!
I’ve had in the only basket I’m blessed to own…
Even if it was acquired by a hard-fought victory from a Tug-Of-War between myself,
And parents raising more drinks and smoke,
Than kids in need of heartwarming love in a home gone cold…

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