My Own Choices

Worked my fingers to the bone.

Burned my candles at both ends.

Still I end up all alone.

Short on family, shorter on friends.

Don't complain. Hide the tears.

My own choices brought me here.

I know I was wrong all those years.

But that gives no comfort, dries no tears.

Now hounds are nipping at my heels,

as I struggle with the monthly rent.

I beg. I borrow. I no longer feel.

Pride beaten down with borrowed cents.

Tangled Webs

Oh what a tangled web we weave

when we first choose to believe.

The sky turns black the sun is free.

The earth is void of jealousy.

The web is real but only seen

in nights of moonlit fantasy.

You don't get caught if you don't believe

in chains, in wars, hypocrisy.

Oh what a tangled web we weave

when we believe we are free.

Regret

Walking through my daily life.

Life's memories are growing old.

Still talking faith like every dope.

Regret the soul that I have sold.

The Artist

 Regardless of the medium you create in,
I think half the battle to being an artist,
is accepting or admitting to yourself
that you are one.