The Center Piece of any person
Is a Calm that fills a certain type of rhythm
I think about this all night long
My tick is a tock, my tock a strangled cry
My mind is wrapped around it self like a bandage over eyes
It makes me blind
I cannot see my own accomplishments
My dreams are blurry
There's a crazy sense of hopelessness and I can't help but worry
Is it a disease I read about and study just to please my fasination?
Or is it worse or less or nothing beyond this estranged imagination?
My calm is my inner-workings, broken but still there
It helps to steady my mind, although my strength is not there
I reach beyond my wildest dreams, my calm is brought by me
And my imagination is my tick, so my tick can be my tock
and my tock that lets out a cry, is calling out to battle
my depressions and anxieties to lessen or start regress'n
And my center is calm, self made and stready, like a ticking clock
It's who I am, It's what I am
It's my strength and who I can become.