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[Lost_myth]

I find myself dripping with disdain.
These tears I cry are from the pain
of simply having to accept
"There's nothing you can do to change."
With all due respect,
I sure have tried within my range.

What do you want from me, is not quite yet clear
and what I give you is, nothing dear...
because there's not much of me left,
how I'm hysterical during the day
never really goes away.
I scrape the skin.. hoping it will perish but I become only bereft
and I loss the will to stay awake as escapes my breath.

The saloon's amusement appealed to the drunkard
because his bed was never warm
and when he awoke in the ditch that hunkerd,
he swore up and down before the storm that he would reform
but no one excepted the change
and that is what he begged for in his coffee mug.
So he could buy another whiskey jug.
But, in secret he was a good man
that prayed every night
and did everything right.
The span of his desuetude was by a clan
that destroyed the structure in his head.
However, his normal behavior did exchange
with society's derranged ideas of who he was.
As they looked from outside the window,
all they saw was a pennyless foe
that went around carrying a heavy vase.
Unknowing his wife's incinerated remains were inside. Strange?
"The mutt never did turn into the purebred."


---PSR (Pamela)