Self-flagellation

I’m a lost cause 

The same mistakes over and over

Addicted to the error

Flagellated by the outcome

Just for a taste of sublime wrong

I sing old songs

I get on my own nerves

So I suppose I deserve this

All of this.

And yet maybe I’m making small changes each time

To the words. To the rhyme.

Enough so that I can live with myself.

And maybe all these little changes

Will alter the big picture

And my mistakes will stand up tall and will no longer quiver

And there will come a day when I won’t consider them flaws when I will hit pause and see

That all these things are just part of me

And that the whip I use to beat myself

Is not made of leather but only words

But oh those words can sting

They can cause such harm

Built of old ways and old fears

Ancient rivers sodden with tears.

Tears that no longer run true

But still manage to soak

To turn me into sop.

To muddled mess with dying fish floating at the surface.

I need to set myself free. I need to run to sea.

To disperse into bigger things

To lose my concentration.

Then maybe if I really don’t over think.

I will float instead of …

(C)Slumpless

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