This Rut You see, the self opposing cycle starts, but like a weighted oval, stuck, held down, it lays dead, slanted to the graver part. Now stuck in murky mud, my heart will drown. I wish that I could heal this broken ring; that I could force myself to rearrange But you see, I'm obsessive on this thing. It leaves me oppressed to never change. I can remember when it went so smooth. I wish I could remember how I did it. But that whole time is just a blur confused. A carefree world, I didn't give a shit. I know deep down that this will worsen. See, I'm a self opposing person. P.S. I know the last two lines are 9 syllables, so no need to berate me for that
Man that was really good. Nice rhyming, and I can really relate to what you're feeling there. I just wrote something in the same spirit last night, perhaps I'll post it.
So long as one is merely a person they remain opposed to their self. What is the personality but a tornado of happenstance? About what have we collected this dispersion of random particles, that we should call it "I"? Good work, that first look, here, into the Unholy War of Self. The Tower awaits its Thunderbolt. Best Wishes.
