Battles Lost

I'm no prodigal son

but lately

I've lost more battles

than I've won.

I'm nothing new under the sun;

it's just I've

Screamed silent for an

iron lung.

I'm clawing at the walls
of my own
Self-centered sickness
of psyche.


Waiting for my song to be sung
Waiting for that bell to be rung
Telling my jury to get hung.
Screaming, Screaming alone for my
Iron lung.


Three characters:
Arrogant.
Self-interested.
Shallow.
I never meant to be
Those things that somehow
became me.


Time to stop waiting.
Time to stop taking.
Time to start giving.
Time to start living,
else scream forever.