What if I can’t stop grieving
For no one ever believing
That the mess that’s me
Deserves occasional reprieving
Suspicion becomes tradition
Devoid of safety’s clout
Making everything howl
What’s all the fuss..
I’m surrounded by need
Unable to feed
Nothing but greed
Forcing me to concede everything
I perceive every stumble
As the beginning of crumble
Try and give it away
Make it someone else’s shout.
