The rain beats down it belts and bounces from the cars and earth
like sheets of tropical storm.
The air hangs heavy, humid, sleep is far from here,
And so am I and yet so near.
So near and still so far from all I knew.
The downpour sounds insane out there, it wrecks my head
Or maybe that’s just shifting blame;
the weather, surely, can’t make you insane?
Guilty conscience, not a care, I made my choices and I dare to say
I’d make the same again
I chose this life, I’ll play the game until I’m out
Then buy back in, so self assured,
without a doubt, without a thought or worry.
Five lives down at 29, d’you think that’s many?
Cursed and blessed and juxtaposed I ponder
The rain has stopped, now just my thoughts that thunder.
We’re all ultimately responsible for our own choices and paths. Even the clearly insane can’t blame Ethel down the street for the fact they stole graham from acounts’ car. It’s too easy to blame anyting but ourselves sometimes. What are we so scared of? what’s the worst that could REALLY happen? Am I unwell, or am I just a manipulative, deceptive bitch with a ‘get out of jail free’ card?
Answers on a postcard ha