Phoenix Resurrected

i look back and it flashes over - taking me down in its undertow. similar to anti-gravity, i'm drifting away from earth.  how long in this undertow
can i last
and it's been almost a year since i gave up, didn't look back. actually withdrew myself from plenty, and i could consume more. endure it all much better, and learn more.

i took the guts right out of it and sent it to the coroner, and i'll stand by when they slap you on the table. they'll cut you open like sunday dinner, but they won't be expecting what i already knew.  you survived with insides that curdled, so sour.  it amazing you lasted with that putrid stink.  and to think you grimaced at passerby's when they twisted their faces.  you swelled with anger when you knew it was was all misconceptions (how you believed to be looked upon - once described as "completely bloated in an ignorant figment of how [you're] viewed), your brand had cascaded.  you cried behind the shed in your backyard while your parents watched out the kitchen window.  they were hesitant to come to your side, you constantly pushed away those invested in you. 

so it was no surprise when they tell me it's mostly empty, you were running on ashes and all that was there is black, i'll share a laugh with your ghost right after i remind the coroner to take care of the remains. and it's funny because when you were still here i told myself you lost your dignity.  now i find myself defending it, and excusing it for the past.

Tribulation (The Trouble) < Trials (The Attempt)

here with you, but off to the side, after days the pain subsides
i watch you with the fury of all the bitter days

but handling it can only surely save me

from the candid pain

walking through the doors, i walk a step behind

living in the last season, there's still so much to find

i'm in a bout of rain, that i bring to the engagements
that only seems to stop when snow hits the pavement

my suicidal thoughts, while branching off from lavish lessons

erupt with flimsy reason, slams me to the prior season
while in this backward motion, i continue on
i never get to rid of you, my face red as i recite
this awful situation back to the pages in my diary
it's like reading a future where repetition's not easy
one day after then next, all filled with fear
jumping off the pages are solemn scenes,
with all the same faces
i erase and rip them up to save me from imitation

but

i want to ask you simple questions

given with a steady voice

without all of the flowery emotion

you've heard so much before

Light Poetic Song

i had been nervous because the scapegoat i elected was clearly condemning every thought i produced. i got scared when my grievances walked beyond the boundaries i had cast in stone. flexing their over-sized muscles, i was nothing but a puddle, and i was eerily still. so maybe i surrendered, for the weak of heart - maybe that's another excuse - it was damaged towards the start. catch this though, i hired a priest who i played for keeps to perform an exorcism. things went great, the demons escaped and the hunch on my back fell off. but when i asked the priest to leave, he was in an uproar at my knees. pleading and screaming! and with no other choice i found a large enough bat and i took that old priest out.