And denying my own chance,
To rectify everything I am disappointed in in my past.
Can I hear it for the struggle?
And can I receive support for this denial?
That has me questioning my ability to smile?
This one’s for my heart that has gone missing,
And my tendency for wistful thinking,
Which gets me no where I have been wishing to be.
This piece is an ode to the person I am denying,
And the strength that I am vigorously hiding,
So that I can claim that I have nothing I wanted to see.
This is a shout out to my sense of immaturity,
And the mistakes that continue burning me,
Yet I continue making in an effort to continue this faking.
Here I will claim that I am anything but sane,
And wish that there was an easy answer to my pain,
Finding that there was nothing in the end to gain.
Cheers to the spliff in my hand,
And the bottle by my side,
For fueling the anger I feel consuming me from the inside.
Here’s to the opportunity I have floundered,
And the old habits by which I have been hounded,
That will not allow me to be the person I am seeking to set free.
This one is for the pain and the suffering,
And my desire for absolutely nothing,
To change if I can help it so I can continue to hate what I dealt with.
Can I hear it for the power of hate?
And can I feel the significance of this date?
For all things unlucky to occur and for this life to continue to be a blur?
Because what do I really seek in the end?
How can I continue to deny the feelings that emerge with this pen?
And what makes me think I stand alone when I spew disappointment into this microphone?
Because I see the evidence of your struggle,
And I feel the support of your denial,
To find anything in this life that is worth the effort of a smile.
So let’s embrace what we have today,
And let’s set aside our cares for another day,
For now let’s raise a glass to the ghosts that haunt us from our past.
Cheers to this denial,
And here’s to the struggle,
That I will continue in this blind rebuttal.
And finally looking back at all the things I’ve been through.
I’ve claimed my spot of age and experience,
But did not recognize that I can no longer claim to be the girl I once knew.
Because the passing of time has been inconsequential,
And on so many levels it is driving me mental,
This constant discovery of who I might be,
This constant struggle that leaves me sentimental,
For the times in my life that I now see as easy,
And the moments in life where I faked responsibility,
But knew the truth,
That I was constantly aloof,
And there was more than enough proof,
That there was more I was attempting to deny,
And so much more from which I was trying to hide.
I fantasize about the times when it was simple,
When I functioned in this life as a cripple,
Broken and in denial about every trail I experienced,
Putting in time to face my threat of triples,
And Blacking Out,
Allowing me to drown all the memories I created in this rout,
Knowing I was loosing the battle,
And denying that I was worth the struggle,
To see value in,
And attempt to save in the end.
Not caring appeared to be easier in my youth,
And now it seems to wear on my resolute,
Opinion that this life was a struggle from the very beginning,
And was something to which I was never clued in.
Because it was not the passing of my father that created my image,
And it was not anxiety that developed my personality,
I cannot claim to be raised in vain,
And there is no denying that I have experienced pain,
But there is the opportunity to act my age,
And I have the chance to release myself from my own cage,
Of memories and regret,
And all the things I have attempted to forget,
Instead remembering the moments that I celebrated,
And taking lessons from the experiences that left me separated,
From the existence that I had once known,
And the person into which I have grown.