As if this constant upheaval of my health wasn’t enough,
You stand there barking orders telling me to act tough.
Say how easy it is to brush it off with the company of a “friend”,
Tell me how I’ll feel so much better if I see you again.
But let me stop you before you go off the deep end.
Because I’m the one calling the shots for the war within.
If we tried to put a price on happiness
the invoice would always total: madness.
It may feel delightful at first,
Eliciting a reaction we rehearsed
in front of our gilded mirrors,
for a fleeting glimpse.
All the while, we try to fill the hole,
with excess feigning success,
always chasing humility with vanity.
We rarely catch it in time;
our downfall.
The ledge from which we tumble
raised by our own pedestal
Where we lay our riches,
was all along crumbling beneath,
waiting for that fateful step,
when all falls through.
The Way it Goes 