Author: ace mars lest july

i’m in bad shape
don’t know how you’d expect to find me
let alone be able to rise me up
joining the deep levels again
set aside time to recover
but i’m up before the sun
working away on something new
keep myself occupied
take the illness off my mind
until i come across you
teary eyed and blue
begging me to stop
go rest my eyes
but i want to be remembered
for spending the last part
as active and exciting
not lying around dying
though time catches up
i might not have a say
so hold my position
in case i decide
to end abruptly

keep on shedding
the dead parts
left over town
across streets
under bridges
while the sun shines
as the moon beams
down upon us
these pieces
will be all
that’s left to remember

if there’s a fleeting in your heart
please do me a favour and chase it

a runaway without a start
can it ever really make it

mystified by long colloquial banter
that you’ll forget about tonight

so shake off that day old doubt
rub your eyes free of sleep

make the most of memories
that haunt you in the dark

cast a stone to the longest river
that eludes you when you hide

sell your bones to the highest bidder
then fill the void with gold

more then often you get lost
when you realize you’ve gotten old

just turn away the fading essence
always leaving a bad taste in your mouth

remembering the only forgotten truth
greatness is never a curse

it’s okay
if you’ve given up
let the chips fall
to the side

i can’t say
that i’d do well
if i was there
beside you

all i have
was given away
thrown down
left to decay

hands up
no longer soft
rough edges
bloody bones

your tears
will eventually dry
blow away
into the ether

truer words
found separated
from my virtue
left to burn

held it up
until i couldn’t
so i put aside
to second guess

whenever i have the time

have you misplaced your confidence
i don’t recall seeing where you left it
was it tossed aside with previous ambitions
maybe mistaken for pride and worn out
or covered in lies of superiority

if hindsight could be a victor
then the search would never start
the tragedy of identity
is never seeing what is lost
you absorb blindly

is the air thinning out
from the reserve of purity
has the last stone been cast
in the purest form of anger
with violence taking over

my hands are free
for my own good it seems
keeping themselves busy
out of sight
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