Outside of Broken
There's part of me they try to fix
if conformity is their final bliss
aligning earth to fit the mold
with me as cog that's in the wrong
I'll nod and say that I'm a mess
with baggage strewed from here to there
yet none of that is what they see
when searching for those tendencies.
Everyone is sick with pain
crying over Death's harsh gains
grabbing the hints of joy
in the face of change's storms
what will prosper must also die
the circle turns, the fixed are lies
truth is found in ashes left
in hearths now cold with life spent.
How they rail at the storm
beat their fists in driving rain
yell obscenities to the clouds
while the lighting strikes the ground
explanations must be found
for what is life but God's redoubt
and what almighty deigns to sleep
while its children fall to defeat?
Scapegoats are the richer food
when sad crow is menu's proof
karma asks for recompense
now serving wages of the sins
it's no wonder others caused
some disconnect with sky above
look to find the guilty ones
far beyond the land of self.
This is where my story turns
back to mending what's not been torn
or should I say instead perhaps
finding fault where none exists
I'll deviate from center line
act the fool, it matters not
when fingers point to exclaim
why the world has lost its way.
There is so much of me to fix
the world cares little to assist
instead the focus finds its mark
in areas assigned to heart
who I love and who I cherish
these things evoked by soul's endeavors
to find some comfort in the world
inside of life, outside of broken.
2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161213.