Jonathan Schiefer.com

Sadness washes over me
in the form of anger
due to the simple fact
that my faults were held
before my face
and I was told
everyone saw them

What to do
who to call

The pain came
like a burlap blanket
on the bare skin
of my heart
which was delicately placed
on my shoulder
on purpose
despite being forewarned

So I burry my head
in the music around me
as long as it’s loud enough
I cannot hear myself think
I will be all right

Drive down the highway
as night comes
like the drawing of a shade
and with it my problems fade
into the past
which can be forgotten
unlike the future

If it is not happening now
why should I care
if it is not hitting me, now
why should I
shed a tear

So I take solace in
the past being past
and the hope that tomorrow
might bring me a better day
‘cause it sure won’t be worse

But what do I have to complain about
I mean really
I live in the most “prosperous”
nation in the world,
among the upper-middle class
even there

So I have a coat
and a roof
and a car
and a place to learn
and food in my gut
and a hundred other things

But does that make us more peaceable
I should say not
We have more time
to do the things we hate doing
and that of course it hating
unless the other is sadistic

But that is not me
I only hurt when there is good reason
as if that time ever comes
I hit my brother
and spit in the face of my God
because He died and I cannot love

So what am I left with?
a keyboard to which
I can tell my problems

At least it does not complain
as I bemoan about my various
grudges against humanity
that really aren’t problems at all
when taken in the perspective
I cannot see from
because I see from
my point of view
which somehow never
seems to coincide with the majority
as if they made up truth

As if they had the patent on
the capacity to define what is real
and more importantly
what is not

So instead of being angry
which is in place of being sad
I am now sarcastic
which may or may not be better
who is to say

Oh yeah
It is not better because
now instead of loving
I laugh at pain

The pain that used to make
me cringe back for fear of
further personal damage
now has become the
vehicle for a laughter
which is only a sign of
my calloused and corrupt heart

So where as once I was
happy-go-lucky
now I am the embodiment
of the problems with our society

Perhaps tomorrow
when I see the sun again,
after the bulldozer
once again makes itself
the most prominent factor
in my consciousness,
I will feel better
whatever that means.