Unsmoked Meat.

How many times can I fall 
for a different version of the
same mistake? 
I trip & I tumble,
then I stumble, 
my self-worth away.
What can I do to feel brand new,
revive the smile on my face?
I've been broken down before,
but this can't endure another day.
I'm free-falling, and failing to be free.
I am living life inside a bubble,
and I'm in trouble, but I stay humble,
to save myself from the insane.
See, I've been down some streets 
that seek to steal the shine right
from these big-sad brown eyes;
conquered all my monsters,
defeated demons, and danced 
with dragons, darling—
I've dared the darkness to be brave. 
Cracked, and I crawled, in combat,
collected every single crown, 
to claim the war in my own name.
Correct if you think I commanded
mountains, oceans, seas, and lakes.
I caught the criminals before their crime,
ambushed the armies at their gates.
Yet still, somehow, I seem to stack 
my odds against the victory, the 
sweetness of success.
Slipping away, I stumble, 
singing sirens to their deaths;
so stubbornly, I sacrifice my 
own need for luxury,
to secure a stranger's desire
to dress to impress.
Each opportunity to raise my spirits,
seems to be a chance I take to rise,
to raise the securities of someone else.
A sequence of silly me, the saint who 
stains his own soul for the salvation of 
society.
I am not their goal, 
their toll is not with me.
Unable to make them whole, 
I am not any more or less unholy. 
So although this is a series of
the same old same, stuck in a loop 
that's on repeat, it seems to self-identify 
in different ways, 
it's appearance may change 
but it plays an old familiar. ancient game.  
Unless I learn the lesson, 
there will never be a new subject, 
sentenced to suffer stuck, like supper,
in some spider's web. 
Smoking I smoke and I
I'm smoking I smoke and 
I'm smoking I smoke 
I'm smoking to stay sane.
Puff and I puff and I'm 
puffing I puff I'm puffing
I'll huff and I'll puff and 
I'll blow the house away.
Foggy, 
it's dark
and it's gloomy, 
this haze that is looming 
leads to another cloudy day.
I weave, 
and
I wave, and 
I rant 
and I rave, 
I'm riding out 
this wave.
Slipping, 
I slide, 
I trip, 
I fall 
into the hungry mouth 
of an open grave.
And if I recall correctly, 
I crawled directly 
into this cave.
I used to have it all, 
the money, cash, and coins t
that I could crave.
But that was before I learned 
to burn, to bend, to break 
in order to be brave.