Write out my sorrow.
The words look much smaller
than I want them to be.
Pray for tomorrow?
When today is all that
I’ll ever see?
Write what is certain,
when wise words from wise mouths
don’t sound right to me.
Plead with the curtain,
take not from my life
what will set me free.
View the catastrophe,
as I let my own ego
lead me astray.
Face the hypocrisy
of preaching to others
what I ignore each day.
Laugh at the irony
of putting my folly
into pretentious rhyme.
Free with the certainty
that to laugh at myself
will save me each time.
The Galley with No Name 