Does it bother you to have me standing here,
Searching for words to explain the anguish I feel
Not knowing if this is the life I'd choose to be real?
Overconsumed by selfish fleshly desires,
Waiting for the unfounded patience to help you heal
From an economy that chipped you into gypping loved ones
Denying the help's compromise to seek out everything under the sun.
I get shamed for generosity and feel ashamed of my selfishness
So where in the giving spectrum can I sit content
In the current of pure bliss?
The world is wide as our openness or narrow as our pride
So why keep locking friends on the outside?
In perpetual repentance of my incontinence,
I can't convey across interpersonal continents:
America to Africa, do you read me,
Or must I retreat to write another treaty?
I've been entombed in this castle
Waiting for a queen to unseat me
Whose dowry is the privilege to doubt me
The curse of her reign to know all about me,
That every choice I make is a royal mistake.
Is my superlative creativity just a sedative reactivity,
Casting subjects to incite a playful proclivity
For a ring of admirers insincerely encircling me?
When even the great eye in the sky must cry why
Let’s start over at the beginning, with the end always nigh.
In a stable of insecurity for never knowing
How much is incoming and how much outgoing
So must trust that if I spare my crust
Can still find my niche in the human sandwich.