Sunday, November 15, 2015

Rot

There’s a bit of rot been clinging to my soul
And I should really take up that rag and wipe it clean
I should surely start now before the stain sets in
(I’m not sure anymore if living’s the price or the goal)

I should really take up that rag and scrub it good
I should start right now before the pain sets in
(I’m not sure anymore what to try or how to begin)
Decay is as much a part of me as blood

I should do it right now before it starts to grow
(I’m not sure anymore who to trust and what to believe)
Decay is as much a part of me as grief
And a mildewed spirit is the only thing I know

I’m not sure anymore if living’s the price or the goal
Decay is as much a part of me as fear
But I’ve a mildewed spirit and a rag to wipe it clear.
And I’m here. That’s something. Alive, if not quite whole.



No comments: