Out of options
Still trying to remain optimistic
Hoping and praying I’m not
Following optical illusions
Rather than God’s given vision
Relying on my wisdom…
But that only comes with experience
And time which I try not to waste
With pointless experimenting
Fearful of failure
Terrified of being turned away
Scared of being shunned
Which makes me timid to speak most days
So I write my heart out
Expecting no one to listen
Because no one reads it anyway…
Missing the real me in riddles mentioned
A bastard of my hometown
Foster child of my own family
Built Ford tough on the way
Most people have handled
me
And yet I’m still not fragile
I act that way for false pretension
To fit in with a world of people
That are always pretending
To be real…

A fallacy of my own facts
Sadly ahead of the time
Which means I’ll be understood
After my funeral and after that
It still may take a while
You will never know this pain
This tornado of thoughts
Tsunami of a pen
Cyclone of characters that
Have conversations in my head
Having meetings without me
Then come to agreements on what to do
Then the president of my brain
Sends messages to the rest of me
And there you have it on paper
The best of me.

Still yet… Misunderstood

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