No amount of concentration
Can allow my pain to escape in
this prose compose out of frustration
Vigorous contemplation
Seeking my mind's emancipation
Appealing my soul's incarceration
Trapped in the darkest places
I try to find patience
But only find its traces
Of what once was, but never will be
I may be clever with these
But is this it for me
Stuck to never know what could have been
What will it be for me
But this fire won't subside in me
Like a cold atrocity
I'm a poetic monopoly
And arrogantly, I have a patent on this industry
yet, conceivably, my life seems lost in this industry
There's no us, just me.
But my friends, and fans, seem determine to set this caged bird free
So they listen to me sing
Cry as I cry, the inherit what is the best of me
But past this moment and so on, there's nothing left of me
