This Is Therapy

Why do I feel guilty,
For thinking of myself,
By altering the course of my conscious,
Compromising my health,

Wasting my time writing shit like this here,
(I don't really think that),
Or rather, that depends on what's valued,
Not able to help if a loved one's sad?

That last one, though,'s a little misleading,
No one's ever ready,
To rescue someone that they care about,
May that I never see!

But let me free,
That's all I ever want,
Sometimes I forget what it is all for,
Then I feel guilty, then I write a Wath.

Just Sayin'

It's finally happ'ning,
All I have worked hard for,
For the first time I don't feel self-conscious,
Like I am just a bore,

Start making excuses for what I do,
As if anyone knows,
What honesty is supposed to look like,
Believe me, I've let enough chances go,

Simply because, let's face it, I was scared,
Of getting what I want,
Like, I had got to the end of the line,
'stead of found a new haunt,

To start again,
Just from a higher height,
Informed by what it feels like to move up.
You'll miss it if you don't claim what's your right.

One More for Good Measure

How much can you trust you?
How much should you, really?
What makes you think in your short time on earth,
You get reality?

You may have read the books of all the greats,
I think I'll read one now,
You've wisdom and guidance from ones you love,
You think have learned more than you have somehow,

But how much time does one need to find out,
You can't know anything?
I'd say the less time the more wise you are,
But then you have nothing.

There's no reward,
In ascertaining truth,
That's a lie, plenty people make it big,
Knowing what's real, but peddling it as new.

Not Where I Had Started

Sometimes you're so busy,
Free time is filled with guilt,
No matter what gets done, there's always more,
The same way Rome was built,

But sometimes disconnecting is helpful,
Scratch that, it always is,
You're busy because you are valu'ble,
So keep some of your milk for your own bliss,

Or like Hollywood, you'll work for the man,
Speak his words with your voice,
You don't mind being owned by the system,
S'long's he's one of the boys,

But come the day,
He mocks who you've become,
Whether as a child or as an adult,
You are in too deep for revolution.