Out of convention I bend my knee.
Flooded my soul with intention that wasn’t to be.
Danced with a soul that wasn’t my own.
Might be the reason I am left alone.
No chance for a redo.
Moments are too few.
Out of redemption,
I feel like a fraud.
Built introspection,
Just to have a clue.
Posted up in hiding with part of me.
Redacted by seconds which should never see…
Daylight dying in my grimy hands.
Cancerous suggestion that I command.
No chance for a redo.
Moments are too few.
Out of redemption,
I feel like a fraud.
Built introspection,
Just to have a clue.
Fried by my malcontent.
Using what I never meant.
Polished this turd until it did shine.
Now I’ll use it to cross another sacred line.
With a head full of pain,
Selfish runs in my vein.
I am the bastard built without a twin.
No chance for a redo.
Moments are too few.
Out of redemption,
I feel like a fraud.
Built introspection,
Just to have a clue.
But I failed again.
Embezzled then bankrupt.
Sickest of all fucks.
Simon A Jackson - Writer 