The crown of your success
Slipped so tight around your eyes
Made you blind to your distress
Before you ever realized
The stamps of your approval
Were as likes for likes you saved
They became a form of worship
For the darker things you craved
Like a face inside a stain
Or a mistress in the clouds
There’s a longing for a name
You can never live without
Now the ones who truly love you
Are completely devastated
By the stories you are writing
And the madness you’ve created
Where you’re drowning in your sorrows
With imaginary lovers
Longing for a new tomorrow
In the company of others
Where the answers are all questions
As you view yourself a mystery
Bleeding out for total strangers
While rewriting your fake history
Saying these are only stories
Nothing should concern you
All for fleeting fame and glory
Not a care for how they burn you
the bushman 385
For the worshiping of words
Are as gods inside a chain
They become a form of bondage
To the needs that cause us pain
They are jealous of perfection
Always searching for a flaw
Placing doubt above intentions
Making faith a closing door
As a form of starving artist
With two choices on his plate
He can fill his soul with beauty
But he’d rather feed on hate
Now you rule your prison blameless
With your crown around your eyes
Self-defined as dark and nameless
In a kingdom full of lies
For this prison has no walls
No metal bars to see
A beautiful illusion
Where we think that we are free
Our uniform is skin
With shackles for the mind
We have the power to leave
But we prefer to stay inside

TM DiSarro

From THE BUSHMAN

Available Here:

getbook.at/thebushman