Angst Of The Wayward

How many years have I wasted
trying to be someone else?
How many years have I wasted
wishing I had taken a chance?
I just want to change.

At what point did I become
the stranger in the mirror?
At what point did I become
what I tried so hard to avoid?
I just wanted to change.

But when I crossed that bridge
I tried not to look back.
And when I crossed that bridge
I burned it behind me.

I was never who I wanted to be
and I lost myself along the way.
I was never who I wanted to be
and now I know I never will.

The Beginning

This bond will break, it cannot bend.
Hold fast- I could not stop
the beginning of our end.

Who is to blame? We both had doubt.
But voiceless fear is an open wound
and silent answers sold us out.

You are not dead to me my dear
– yet if I feel no life with you,
then you’re the death of me I fear.

But I became your every breath!
So could I truly call it living
if I left you to certain death?

Blood is pouring from the suture.
These broken hearts we stitched together
bleed and stain our every future.

Who is to blame? We both knew change.
The children we were died in our arms
– the face in the mirror was strange.

This bond will break, so leave it be.
It was made for a different life,
and from that life we now are free.

Of Gifts And Wages

It screams, it screams
in the solittude of retrospection.
It screams with a voice
that frightens my sanity.

Darken my eyes
to the love that was set before me,
and now bring to light
this nightmare of memories.

My failure and failure to change
gives birth to hollow regret.
No one to give, no where to place the blame:
I never tried to anyways.
Always mine these faults have been.
From the evil I harbor comes my sin.
This pleasure has become my burden.
This is my demon that dwells within.

I strive, I strive
to rid my mind of these obsessions.
I strive, but in vain:
they’ve been with me for so long

I am broken,
but the damage you cannot see.
There is no rescue
unless I first reveal my depravity.

My failure and failure to change
gives birth to hollow regret.
No one to give, no where to place the blame:
I never tried to anyways.
Always mine these faults have been.
From the evil I harbor comes my sin.
This pleasure has become my burden.
This is my demon that dwells within.

My conceit has left me helpless
– embattled against my weakness.
Alone I falter in this fray.
But as long as I can draw breath,
I can put this demon to death.
So on my knees, Father, I pray.

(Written October, 2014)