The 2 A.M Writer

Ground Level Peace

Reaching out the wall

Brick by brick, my fingers stretch 

Ashes, ashes, we fall

Stuck on the same old ledge

 

I keep the canteen and savor the sympathy

I shake your hand, and trash your philosophy

Sound the trumpet for my symphony

Another tale of woe and pity

 

My nails are cracked from scratching 

I have yet to use the shovel

All relationships damaged by pitiful latching

How comfortable am I really on ground level?

 

So who\'s to blame?

For the never ending game

The circus of full circles

In the end, I\'m the reason the solution is infertile

 

Devil\'s soil, I\'m the caretaker