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Blue Black I'm sick and tired of being the golden boy I've resigned myself to being his favorite toy All I want is to endulge in sin's poisonous joy The battle within now is over, my soul was Troj My will is battered and bruised from every last decision Each choice I make cutting the string without vision No sight of the future, looking at the past with precision Not caring that my life could soon be a final revision A mighty oak that should be a family tree Has wilted and withered, soured into poison ivy And just to feel companionship is coming now with a fee As I look to be merely held, waiting anxiously, yet nakedly Calculating my wasted life to best pray for hope Degraded and confused, brooding over the fact that I mope Trying my damnedest not to give it over to the rope Fashioning my last savings on a cheap necklace of taupe Hanging on my last word passed from bluing lips Watching with fixed stare on my last breaths' trips A final warmth succumbing to a cold air's whips Stinging sensations from all around that make their nips Soon now, this blue will turn to a conglomerate of black Deaf ears sealed away by the pounding of one last tack And the lesser creatures will feast of fate's lowest pact The one made with dancing scissors to a man of moral lack Poet Darká |