Running on empty

I don’t understand

Try as I may I’m

Stuck running in quicksand


Ten shots to kill pain

Makes no change in the view

I wonder if ten more will

Somehow make me new


Lovers I’ve slain

With words sent on cue

What the hell is the point?

In this life I’ve no clue


When I exit these walls

Those around me would think

There could be nothing wrong

They don’t get the link


Between mirrors and masks

Looking in, looking out

Thinking, "he’s got a grip"

No question, no doubt


Well shit, here’s the funny thing

For those looking in

I’m uniquely ill equipped

I’ve majored in sin


So an end would be easy

For those who would know

Just ask the right question

It is buried in sorrow

copyright r.b.franklin 30/11/05
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