weak words

My rage stays clenched, unquenched in my fists

Like a river running past dead undrenched lips

I can tell that my grip is starting to slip

I need a shield or a savior or I am going to flip

I should have learned long ago

I would’ve been stronger I know

But I can’t stop this feeling

That success is stealing

the rich keep greeding

and living leaves my heart out bleeding

but I can’t stop seeing

that faraway light I fight to hold tight because it keeps me right

but sometimes I find the

passion that drives me

turns to evil inside me

and if this is a test

I guess I failed it more than the rest

so I invest my time into what I know best

and I rage on this page to express the stress

and even though it feels like the devil blowing up in my chest

all I’m seeking is a little rest, no more no less