The Scale
I think of scales,
Constant in motion.
Wins and fails
Adrift in an Ocean.
I am a brass-weight tipping
Sometimes I slide, sometimes I’m slipping.
Forever in a tug-of-war
with Backward curiosity.
Thought I’d breathed hate’s last breath
But ever-building animosity:
Loathing my unnatural motives
Learning an alternate truth to
Water an ever-hungry seed of hate.
Reckoning at your doorstep
My seed did grow so tall
Ulterior motives in lockstep
I think I’d like to fall
In love
In lust
In hate’s abyss.
Entrench you into rotten bliss.
We carry on. We slide. We slip.
I tear and rip: You claw.
Near end of days upon this trip.
Toxic dance in devil's maw.
Our love is nothing more
Than the undertaker's dream.
Both us dead and keeping score.
We hurt, we maim, we scheme.
In our battle for control,
Ever tipping, on we roll.
And the undertaker chuckles
When we both lie dead.
The scale is not in motion
It's all inside your head.