A twisted little poem about questions, answers, and the ideas that thrive between. |
-Baited The Breath- by Keaton Foster Waiting Pacing Baited The breath This can’t In no way Or purpose Be as real As it seems This world Is here Upon my chest God Be dammed Punish me He has He will Fear I just don’t Sad But the truth is I am incapable Void Vacant Empty Of emotion Devoid Of decision This was placed Upon my chest Suffocation Through living A hell of a thing Baited The breath One day I’ll be free After that day I’ll breathe Then I’ll live Regrets I’ll have some But none Like the ones That cloud My judgment That infect My persona Leaving me Stumbling Fighting the scene Telling others Any who’ll listen Where to go What to do Assuring them By lying Through my teeth That it will be ok Of course It won’t I know it Understand it Far better than most I’ve seen darkness I’ve lived madness I’ve stood In the middle Being torn apart Feeling each second A living perception Leaving me expressing Then and again Baited The breath What will come next Who could know Why would they Ever want to To feel alive One must be surprised By what will happen And what others Are capable of The mundane Is so archaic The plain A further disgrace What makes us tick What is inside Deeper still Behind our eyes Inward At the core Of forgotten Beneath The very bottom In that place Is what really makes us Who we are And why we are I know it More than I Can feel it Baited The breath With regard To the answer Of all that truly is The question And purpose Remain Unchanged… Baited The Breath Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2015. |