Burning Stone
When insanity comes I want
up to be down
For anger is white hot if
you agree with me
Reason for that wicked
affliction is to suffer emotions
To touch the burning stone
to understand the groans
No creation without deep
inflicted sorrow
That unrelenting hurt
where you feel utterly cursed
And the world is deaf to my
cries for who am I?
No god to lift me high for
remember the millions destroyed who cried
Do I hate – no he reasoned
for that is a line overstepped
Not to envy either for
that is a pitiful self indulgency
Just tears within that
burn from the oil of confusion at no justice
From this, stability must
solidify, compartmentalizing crazy
Can it be that everywhere
I look I see normal?
All swinging to exact
dimensions and nobody thrown on their head
So I belong with the
outcast minority where convention is disease
And we have a relative clock that perversely
tends to tease
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