The joy that should be there
is found torn, a part of happiness
is infected by the cancer i once had.
Self-Destruction of a world
many view as a time for laughter and parties
i continue to live in the world
of the one who plagued it with his own infectious hate.
Loyalties trumped by deceit
rides shotgun seat of a car
fueled by a liter of whiskey,
cushions the impact of this vehicle
who’s breaks are cut.
Going to fast to slow down
i hit every pot hole on life street,
my enteral gps leads me through the roads
im most scared to travel.
The last choice i make ends me up at a cross road.
I am just man,
nothing more or less then what i provide.
Yearning to live that fairy tale life.
The fairy tales never read to the boy i was,
so i create horror stories.
The only ones that i know,
seen by a man who is less then giving.
He develop my childhood,
creating the a world thats captive by chains
in a mind that wants, needs and calls for
nothing less than great.
The boy becomes the man
not because he says he is
but because of how he had to
over come what other men in his life showed him how to act.
Thank you for showing the boy who not to be.
Thank you for making me fight to become a better man.
Nothing like what you have done for me.