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Useless Compass
Michael

Frustration has seized me once again

So I lend a hand to my pen

that it may tell me what I'm feeling,

concealing ... revealing?

It's not a question of sanity

that I answered long ago

when I threw my soul to the demons

that I might escape their gnashing teeth

Now I stand pointless

a compass with no needle

just a bunch of wrong directions

It's not what I asked for

It's what was given me while I wasn't looking

but I'm looking now and I don't like what I see

in the mirror of my own obscurity

a cracked group of shards that all stare back at me

am I seeking myself in this well of self loathing?

or voting for death ... yet open too debate

wait ...

am I too late for the party?



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