It's coercive, and time plots against me.
I'm independent on so many levels,
yet, the complexity of my soul
drives the anchor deeper
into the soiled lands of confusion.
And the birds that I keep chasing
fly so far away.
It's amusing, to me,
that my fleeting compliance
makes up the rocks I keep running into.
I'm a sailor, stuck inland,
remote from the seas:
as if I don't have the legs to get back to shore!
Pointing the dagger at everyone around me;
the anger, the lies
and my thoughtless despair,
embedded so deep within me,
portrays the derivation of my outlook,
and the Fear my heart still has
to overcome.
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