poetry

my lyrical demise part VI

coming clean, with my demons and angels screaming. because they don’t like my ability to call them out. my lyrical disease, spreading through my verses. and i am my own worst enemy. a tortured soul. beautifully painful. and praised for my heart… worth it’s weight in gold, so i’ve heard. a wondrous mind. beautiful to most. but within itself… corrupted by a disease. that takes me to my knees. as i want to tear apart my chest. just to learn how breathe again.
exposing myself… isn’t nothing new. how many of you. have seen that side of me. with my sins running deep. i chase a salvation… just too far out of my wicked reach. although i’m not as bad, as i make myself out to be. a faithful man, i’ve always been. but there’s been times… i needed to be faithful to myself. as i’ve let others… try to ruin me.
counting to nine. and remembering everything. i can’t hold the actions of others. to any one soul. just like no one… will hold comparison…to me.
-joshua ryan stewart

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