Before Misery Was Born

Was I ever really sick to begin with? I was such a happy and vibrant child Full of energy and always playing I didn't care what people thought about me I just did things because I enjoyed them Without regret or over analysis Skip forward 20 years and the script has flipped I've battled in the war zone of mental illness For over 18 years now,18 exhausting years Yes 6590 days roughly, over 157,000 hours It's sickening don't ya think? Especially when you look at it like that! Now that I'm a mature adult, well...adult I can see things from the watchtower Or at least from a higher vantage point Those years are not ambiguous by any means Surrounded by so many bitter souls (myself included) Who insist on taking their problems out on the nearest bystander Thrust into a world of pointless competition Fighting for a mediocre job Fighting to please an indifferent boss Fighting to stay sane while the years Flicker away like the burning candle With a sour scent of dissatisfaction Guess what? The doctors grave Is the same as the peasants grave A gold coffin is still conceiled by dirt And forgotten just as swiftly The statement - 'I could have been' Will bury you just as hastily The questions? Oh they never seem to cease What if? Why is it so? Who am I? As the years pass there is no great clarity of answer The only true clarity is that the questions never mattered And your interpretation of them is just as easily forgotten with the subtle but loud ticking clock You think you're special? A prize of sorts? Everyone is in their fleeting drunk minds Because a blink in eternity, scares me too! And yet that's all we are graciously gifted So as I raise a glass, I say to myself Make the most of it, and blink beautifully! The priest will bestow his blessing onto you If you so choose to confess your humanity He will proclaim the great sins of Babylon Or perhaps will just babble on... About what it means to be a righteous man In a cursed land littered with treacherous temptations There are millions of magazines And bounties of audacious books That tell you that you are sub-par Your face, your body, your social status Jealousy now comes in a pill About 22cm x 28cm with a papery aftertaste Ohh 6pm, it's propoganda-o'clock Spread your fear like the wings of a hawk Swooping down on the weary masses Sharpen your beak of well-seasoned lies And shower your storm of hatred Just to divide what's left of unity Just because society has become a rotten tree Doesn't mean I need to devour the corrupt fruit I was born to be forever free Like you were born also to be Follow your gut, your intuition, your heart Stand true to you and on this world Leave one hell of an awesome mark!