Most times I look quite scary, this hardened scowl has grown old and weary. Tongue-tied and tired, troubled and tattooed. This chip on my shoulder has been shattered and reglued. Too many pieces to number and file, I never thought asshole would adjunct my style. I never thought once I would hate so much of you. I never thought once, you’d feel the same way too. It’s three in the morning and I still can’t sleep. My move around the rosary is three laps deep. I’m going back and forth between good days and not. The few pros are potent, but those cons have a lot. The faith of my heart is being moved through my hand. The struggle in my head is leaving nowhere to stand. I can’t turn around and I can’t go on so if I, so if I. If I fall, will you catch me, catch me. If I fall, will you catch me, catch me, catch me, catch me. Most times when you come near me, I say a prayer to help better prepare me. Frozen and openly perceptive, He had thought of everything except give. In between sinking and starting to rise, I’m stuck in a twilight of aura and eyes. And after the glow reveals its source, I was rattled to see you behind its force. I fell to my knees and I don’t remember falling. Encircled in the spirit, in the resin I am scrawling. Trying to jot down what the words can’t express, I can’t move my mouth and I’m trying to confess. The pictures of my life bleed through a kaleidoscope, I’m sitting on the edge of all lost hope. I can’t turn around and I can’t go on so if I, so if I.