I, a man
Made of wood
Bundled together with Lashing.
Shabbily constructed
Hastily finished.
Spindly an awkward
Thrust forward into a world
Not of his own making.
Anxiety an issue of daily concern.
Steeped in personal philosophy
Compulsive hang-ups.
Drinking the drowning.
Sinking the ship from the inside
The spirit the poison
Poured for so long now
Self destructive nature
My colours shown
Soulless existence
Never truly feeling
These bloodied hands and knees
No longer allow me to crawl
My helplessness now forces me to stand
Strength gained from the absence of it.
I strive to feel
Just to be a real person
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