An Ode to befuddlement; You may leave now

When the head reeks with confusion like never before, and there ain’t nobody to listen, will it help if I cry? Will it help if I scream? It is what I was afraid of since the very beginning. But we still put ourselves through the aching dream.

Here, those baseless “self-help” articles begin to make the slightest sense. How I pity myself, for having to read what you’ve written while you were trying to recover from that ‘earth shattering’ instance.

Here, even retail therapy, seems like a grind.

I know what I do, I don’t have to lie. Funny that the truth, makes you wonder why. If I’m laying low, I don’t have to try. If I let this go, there’s no need to cry. If my feet are sore, maybe I will fly. If I can’t find a door, the window I will pry. I will try I will try, do what I can to get me by. I fly high in the sky, and when I can’t, I do try.


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