99 cents to my name.
A welling up of tears,
In a sea full of blame.
I’ve neglected to face,
This reality—now 15 years past.
Sunshine in a mountaintop meadow,
My awakening dawn.
When the birds begin to sing,
I’m born again—still with nothing.
A waist that’s grown thin and feet that ache greatly.
My descent reminds me,
Just which world I’m living in.
When memories fade and nothing remains,
Just who in the hell I think I am.
Angered at others,
For their own misdeeds.
My own past lives,
Finally catching up to me.
A sorry work of art,
Pretending to be,
Something—worthy of good things.
Sadness weighs heavy,
On a heart full of anguish.
Happiness a glimmer,
In other people’s eyes and smiles.
My own reflection,
Just a pretense of my own hidden,