What You Think

Shadows spiral downward

In the direction of your dream.

Endlessly, though fruitlessly

You begin to scream.

Silence then takes over

You wish that you were dead

They tell you systematically

It is all just in your head.

Racing seems to ease your pain

The debt demands to be paid.

Then you have your brother

Whose only concern is getting laid.

They never tell you that with the rain

Everything will begin to stink.

Maybe this is about my passion

But it isn’t what you think.

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