Enrapture

Enrapture

I can’t write something that matters.

I’m just a martyr to my words.

One day there will come a nothing after

And no words will be read or heard.

But as I stand here this day in front of you,

I will give you all I’ve got.

Whether its the first poem I ever wrote,

Or the latest attempt at writing a song.

I must give you every piece of me,

So you can jigsaw back my soul.

It’s been seen and sold and shattered.

Now it’s looking beat down and old.

I have one gift to show you.

I’m keeping it inside beneath my scars.

I’ll let you take one piece of me,

But that piece will never be my heart.

My passion only causes heartache.

My words bars are not strong enough to never break.

The beat is only ever inside my head.

It’s truly a wonder I get out of bed.

If Dolly wrote three thousand and I’m already on two,

Then maybe when I reach eighty years old,

I’ll have one or two that are worthy of you.

So if you have the time today,

I’d like to walk you through the flames,

Because beyond there lies a song so wonderous,

I’ve hidden it in my subconscious.

The books I have are taking up space,

And they are drifting in the distance.

I don’t recall the words of them all,

Just fractions of the picture.

The master plan is just keep moving on,

Before I’m taken up,

Enrapture.

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