He was contemplating what his deeds embody
Anonymous to the world, but trying to be somebody
What will I leave behind me? I have no known acclaim
When I die I'll be cremated,
So they can't revel in the irony that only bones remain
And I've seen lonely pain in eyes that despise the satisfied
Which are my eyes... And I can't rise my status high..
So I'm conceited to cover that I'm defeated with blunders
But I take a look at myself and I see it & wonder
How I became what I am, insane with this pen
Only trying to show my true colors,
But I don't like the picture that was painted again
So I'm complaining instead of correcting mistakes
Which adds to the problem, cuz I look rejected & fake
I find the truth, stretch it & take the route that allows me to make
another poem for you, hoping you'll overlook this cowardly face
but think it's courage & grace, and show me affection
& This isn't random word choice.. this is only reflection
Of the emotions that utter themselves as patterns of thought
Till I'm overcome and these thoughts scatter distraught
But they somehow end up on this page, a suction of rage
And it's distorted & believed that a production was made
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