by Matt Collom
Trivial Adolescent (Predictable) me
The dawn of such problems half twisted less twice
Is righteous enough to offer advice!
So questions become my effortless guide
Through blinding bright horror I swallow inside
And truly, all respect aside,
The dreams of a child are never misguides.
All horror that’s dreamt is–in fact–swallowed inside.
Then dreams turn to life by thinking them so?
The dangers of wishing are beggingly slow
The love of my tears could soak up the earth . . .
But then begs the question: So what is that worth?
The trivial pain I feel, does it make you laugh?
It would me, I do promise, I’ve done all the math.
Don’t stop now it’s about to get good
My shadows are out for a walk in your woods
Tic, Tock, Tic-Tock Away!
I’m waiting and waiting so fuck you okay!
I’m marching down love’s crooked parade
To find myself in a bed that I’ve made? like digging my grave.
I’ve tried all my trials and fought all my names
I’ve loved with out asking then got fucked the same.
I’m tired of hurting I’m lost in my shame,
Exhausted of not clocking out of this game.
I guess I’ll throw that curve ball for God . . .
These things we pretend in are charmingly odd.
God is Love!
You left me broken and jealous.
You left me crippled.
I actually have trouble breathing . . .
And not that “oh it hurts” bullshit.
It’s more of the “it’s been eight months
since my last breath” bullshit.
The love we seek after breaking and
crying and laughing and dying . . .
But love is a cycle we all learn to walk. We seek it . . .
So love me
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