Irony
Is that end, is another word for beginning.
A start. A clean slate.
So Tell me, what will you build? What words will be engraved?
What beginning will grow from your hands and into the ground?
What will Sprout from the soil of your soul?
Death is only rebirth, and you don't have to cease living for a part of you to cease to exist.
The thing is, just because its living,
Doesn't mean it isn't lifeless.
You're the hammer.
So does that make me the nail?
Bowing down too an unforgiving stake,
Smoldering in what's left of man made fury.
I will spit sin from my cracked lips,
Like the life I used to choke down with a smile and take the worst you have.
You wear disgust on your face like all those who came before you, and the resentment in your tone is evident.
But as the bricks begin to crack, I laugh.
I laugh until
My ribs are broken and the temple of serenity that once was my chest, covers us in rubble and we suffocate.
That's irony
You beat me down and it broke you.
But you'll walk away
And I'll remain,
Hanging at the stake,
I'm too good at not breathing.
Irony, is the fact that
It's going to storm.
It's going to shake your house and blow out the light in your heart; but you'll feel safer there, in the middle of the chaos.
You'll find your peace. Once you finally have to sit with just yourself. It's going to be drenched in years Of overexposure.
Weathered and worn. It'll stand all the same if you can just see things for what the truly are.
That's irony.
The weight you've been carrying, you'll seal it away in a box,
The lock between you and
Where you used to be.
Look at it when you need to remember.
And you'll need to remember.
Irony
Is that you hide from people,
And expect to learn to understand them.
What it was you need to change in you, to see a change around you.
You can't save a rock from drowning.
You can't save what doesn't want to be saved.
The world you see is based on the road you've walked, an no two roads are the same.
Your tires may be off road but they couldn't tread water, and if you jumped in, you would drown.
I've spent my life jumping into water I can't tread, following paths that aren't mine, and tumbling into backyards of barbed wire promises that ripped out the best pieces of me to complete its own shrine to living, Shrine to death, Shrine to the painful in between.
I wasn't sure of what I needed back then,
Fumbling with A homesick heart,
I just knew that what I wanted was to be loved In all it's entirety.
Today where I am,
Is farther and closer to that feeling then I've ever been.
Standing, looking out at an empty horizon,
Barely enough drive to get home.
I'm tired
I sleep, or I think I sleep
But I'm the kind of tired that sleep can't fix,
and sunset never interests
Me anymore
Cause I've watched it pour out of me a million times,
All the colors of red and pink, washing over purple sky.
What I used to admire for its beauty became very ugly.
That's irony
What I failed to see is that the pieces of myself I was giving, weren't just leaving me empty, They was filling spaces with the same emptiness that was now flooding my existence.
I thought they got what they needed and for a moment I had some clarity but we don't walk the same path.
My dirt can't fill a concrete hole.
I know You asked me to write out something you could frame,
The only difference now is
that these words won't collect dust in your archives.
But I hope they leave prints.
All the nights
We whined about people and places
and wasted breath, it was all things that never truly mattered,
but those moments did.
That's irony.
