Painted Weak
Painted Weak (5/14/2008)
I wonder what you think when you’re reading all these lines
When you’re hanging on the vibe of this analyzing mind
When my pride is on the line and it’s right before your eyes
Do you understand that I don’t exaggerate or lie?
That it’s really simply fine for me to show my emotions
Exposing them all in the struggle to control them
Do you think that I should hold them and concentrate the weakness?
Am I painted weak by this humbleness and meekness?
Cause it’s become my thesis that laying out the pieces
Builds a certain view of me that contradicts completeness
And creates a partial view of a battle that is ceaseless
And misconstrues the facts and paints me into weakness
But underneath the reasons and the battles that I write out
Lies the spirit of a fighter and you can not put the light out
Just because I lie down and attempt to rest these nerves
Doesn’t mean you’re seeing everything when I vent these words
But I guess it seems absurd to assume you’re seeing past this
After all, I have these walls, and a tendency to mask this
I’m taking all my lashes and storing negativity
It’s propane for the fire that I use to burn what’s given me
Cause every day it lives in me and waits for me to call it
A viciousness and anger that will pick up all the fallen
Puzzles once completed will be shattered by the fury
You can call me weak, but the mirror is my jury
Notes: On the technical side of things, it’s not my strongest piece, but I haven’t written in a while and wanted to get something down. As for the meaning, I simply wonder if the fact that I write about my emotions in my poetry causes people to assume I’m weak.
Filed under: Poems