EASEL

I crawl inside myself from the depths of

insanity, where this sanitary symbols dies

and leaves me in ashes and leaves

and no scare crow can last forever

and ever in any form or face

so I am hooked upon the weather

and whether I will face the day

no time left to argue with myself

or take time to place uncertainty above all else

and this crooked smile is carved in my face

with each passing day I rot in this

taunt skin cage

just to be erased

no history book will contain my epitaph if I dont

reprimand my better half and take the reigns of

displacing change and making things better still

than when I came into this world and took

my very first bitter pill

so sacred and divine each time I lose my mind

I barely scrape enough back from my skull to rewind

back to being me when every body is an easel

to a better canvas that is made of all that they’ve made

to last through the next day and pay

a complement to solemn sages

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