What It's Not

Can't afford to lose anymore

what's it gonna take

can't afford to bruise anymore

are you gonna break

apart, this time

when it doesn't rhyme...

Don't want to repress anymore

want to wear the dress anymore

part; you better play

when it's not ok

to be yourself

not acceptable

sit on the shelf

like the doll, that you are

look at her, so pretty too

why? she bats her eyes at you

don't you want to hear her coo?

She's a lovely little thing

so it'd be a shock to see

her act the way she be

almost like a boy, frankly

Tired of this tone of voice

in which you gotta sing

tired of this charming way

that you can sweetly bring

tired of not knowing what to say

unless it rings

Memory is running

constantly and constantly

no one would believe

that what you say feels like a scene

for you act it so well

secretly; lost in the meaning...

You can never visit

unless you know they're coming

wanting to connect

but don't know how unlike a kid

have to prepare what you'd say

by how you know they did

Sometimes you're a great host

you intrigue your guest with style

but you're left exhausted

wanting alone time for awhile

Processing and cycling

the meaning of the words you'd said

which seemed endearing at the time

but now, won't leave your head

There's always things you want to say

but then forget about

you get stuck on just one thing

and that's all that keeps coming out

You wonder, after one leaves

were you nothing but boring?

you scold yourself over making an

impression of annoying...

They, and yourself, hold it to you

what has produced your un-faulted faults

it, logically, feels convoluted

forgetting about gestalt

So where is the slack cut

in this neurological challenge

appearing as what it's not

when emotions; it takes revenge

December 27th, 2011

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