falling flat

this seems to be a recurring theme with me

i hate to sleep I hate to dream

i want what’s better for me and mine

but hate to lead as they hate to try

i hate to hate

whatever that means

i came too late for the big plans and schemes

strength used to be easy for me

i guess true strenght needs to be tested repeatedly

hands seem chained

fig and literally

to break the bonds must God break me

was given brains and eyes to see

yet get punished without mercy when used

i feel abused because i choose

to be better than what has come before

repeating so much it become a bore

even this poem is a little flat

sorry

this is how i feel cant seem to help that

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