poetry

forgotten art

Digging deeper.
Reaching farther.
Into my existence .
To realize.
I’m not numb.
Inside.
Even if I feel dead.
There’s nothing for me to dread.
Crown me the lyrical king.
For this song, I can’t help but sing.
Giving praises.
To every single downfall.
In my flawed ways.
When everyone I meet.
Always goes their separate ways.
How many days.
Have I prayed.
Trying not to be someone’s prey.
When what I want the most.
Is just a sad game.
To this world.
As I tip my hat.
And give you.
A piece of my mind.
You can keep your change.
My words flow.
From that burden I hold inside.
A precious gift.
I’m waiting to give away.
To someone.
Who won’t stray.
Smiling like a fool.
With butterflies.
Weakening my knees.
For what I need.
I deserve.
After what I’ve been served.
Poetically rambling. .
My lyrical demise.
Building my empire.
Full of desire.
With these hands.
I write my heart.
For all to see my art.
Daydreaming of better days.
Set in ways.
Cussing that sun.
Because I don’t need it to shine.
I’ve seen that darkness.
Lived it for years.
With all my tears.
I’m still breathing.
And respecting what I can.
Until the end.
I’ll be goddamned.
If anyone ever.
Could hold this man.
With just two hands.
Lacking that heart.
Of a forgotten art.
-Joshua Ryan Stewart

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