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Counting Down To Nine

I say, I say,
I see, I say,
I’m layin’ down the mod today.
All this waste is in my way,
But somehow I still stay,
Is there any other way?
Mayhap yes, Mayhap no,
Mayhap frozen in the snow,
My mind, my soul,
All less than whole,
Wedged beneath an unlit coal,
That shall never see a flame.
Mass producing fuel from blame,
Except that doesn’t work.
Accept that demons lurk?
Where, oh where, did the demons go,
Where, oh where can they be?
Under the bed, perhaps in the sea,
It’s all the same to me.
This world I live, this world of mine,
This world that’s counting down to nine.
Seconds tick on age-old clocks,
Eight men watching from the stocks,
Seven left skulking in the rain,
While six are hung by necks of shame.
Five that tease, and taunt, and hurt,
Four that tasted tainted dirt.
Three inside a maddened head,
Two pray nightly to be dead.
One left writing in the dark,
None preparing to embark,
Upon a trip of high regard,
Counting stars, and adding scars.
Mathematics were never ours,
To have, to hold, through passing hours.
The past has passed until it returns,
It burns, it burns, all through concerns.
Who’s concerned? A show of hands,
Free of demands and feeble commands.
Raise them high into the sky,
And cry, I beg, with a voice so high.
Listen keenly, absorb it all,
Make sense of nonsense, refuse to fall.
Unless at the bottom, you already are,
How was your trip? Did you come far?
Me? I came from long ago,
The going’s been slow,
While blows follow blows.
These things that I know,
Are things I don’t know.
What do I know?
I’ll let you know,
Headlines come at the top of the show.
But that hour has flitted by,
Waste my time by asking why.
Go ahead, oh please, I dare you.
Perhaps you’d not pursue,
This urge I’ve thrown at you.
That’s okay, it’s fine with me,
It’s what your heart desires, you see?
My heart, well, it exists not on this plain.
Oh well, I’m unwell, maybe insane?
Or so you say.
I say, I say,
I’m layin’ down the mod today.
Ignoring judgment every day,
As it’s all the same to me.
Twisting through with a bitter spine,
Crying nightly, “feelin’ fine!”
Oh, this world I live, this world of mine,
A world to which I’m not aligned.
A world that’s counting down to nine.

hourglass

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