| The dark skies came suddenly
| And they came fast
| For some reason eerily
| I knew they wouldn’t last
| The dark skies came suddenly
| And they came vast
| For some reason eerily
| I knew them from my past
| This time seemed different
| I was ready
| I didn’t know why
| But I was ready
| The dark-tinted glasses
| The vision that comes with
| No more heavy drinking from glasses
| The lie from the liar held within
| A fork in the road
| Each time I think about the future
| Continue down the same path
| Or better my own life
| When I can’t even write
| Poems that still rhyme
| What is the purpose of this life
| When I’m not even right
| I don’t know how I can be right
| Writing freestyle prose
| It rhymes in my head
| But what about my enemies, my friends, and my foes
| A redundancy on two out of the three
| But it’s okay, this is free write, and I’ll never be free
| Originally
| At least, I thought I’d try to flow
| By syllables, by life, by breaths between rows
| It’s all I could ever have wanted
| To be satisfied through life’s normal throes
| But it’s not for me, you’re not for me, maybe it’s for you
| The water flows by, like these words flow nigh
| Verging on the end
| I say the dark skies came suddenly
| And I say I knew they wouldn’t last
| I said so eerily, ’cause I knew it from my past
| But the answer this time, about how they won’t last
| I know the answer, from my future, it will come fast
| I’ve felt this knowledge, this knowing, this reason, this understanding, this so damn much
| No rhyme there, nothing deeper nor more vast
| That this storm will ever cast
| Than my understanding, that this time, it will be my last
| So my understanding wasn’t really from my past
| The dark skies come this time, not simply just to pass
| The dark skies come this time, largely just to be my last
| So that is why, this time, I know they will not last
| And so, I do not cry, as I know it will be my last
| It’s fine, this is all I could have wanted
| Everything is all I could have needed
| To be required, to be remembered, in the end it’s all the same
| I’m sure I will be, in mind, in spirit, or in just the name
| This is it, but I’m at peace, at peace with my shame
| My past, my guilt, my happiness, my life, my beauty, my ugly, my friendships, my memories, my hate, and my love
| It was enough, it was enough for a lifetime, enough that I don’t care to go above
| Fuck it, and fuck it, and fuck it all the same
| Maybe not all of us here are living in the same pain
| That I endure, be it chemical, or biological, or full
| I’m empty, I’m empty most of the time, empty with no hope
| Except for my friends, maybe that they won’t feel this same way
| My family, I hope that they don’t feel this same way
| God, I hope they don’t feel this way
| I hope I didn’t inherit it from them
| We fight the nature versus nurture all from within
| So with the last few lines to write
| As I get off in a fast fury
| I guess it’s time to go, off the rooftop, off the patio, off the balcony in a hurry
| It’s storming, it’s going, the rain and thunder and lightning
| To a normal person, they’d perfectly be frightening
| But to me there is no perfect, there is no nothing, there is no failure
| There’s no pain when you can’t fail
| And when you can’t fail, you can’t be perfect
| The impossible standards we hold ourselves to
| Or at least me, I hold myself to
| Why doesn’t this person like me
| Why did I fuck that up?
| Why did I fuck the past up?
| God I really fucked up
| God I’m really still going
| God I just can’t stop writing
| And God somehow I won’t stop living
| I fucked up hard, not really in today, not really in tonight
| And that’s the deepest, darkest secret of depression, is there really is no bite
| No trigger, no gun, no sudden, no fun
| Hell, you could be having fun, when you come home and you realize all of a sudden you’ve got a trigger on a gun
| Simply why I don’t own a gun
| Simply why I don’t have one
| Those voices would creep in
| All of a sudden
| And I know I’d be gone, like how I want to be off the balcony
| The rooftop, but not the patio, not high nor low enough to go
| Like the rollercoaster of a life
| Of this life
| Of this show
| That I didn’t want to be a part of
| But fuck, I don’t want to go
| And if I do, people will look and think and say
| Hey, why was he so depressed, why’d he do it, why was he that way
| What could we have done differently, what differently could we say
| And that’s the problem, that’s the issue with today
| Let’s just talk about it
| Let’s just talk before I go away
| And it’ll be okay
| Don’t motherfucking tell me it’ll be okay
| Don’t you dare say it’ll be okay
| You liar, you bastard, you had no idea about today
| Or tomorrow, or the future, fuck the past – it was yesterday
| It’ll be over soon enough, 2 million years and we’ll be here for the day
| A minute percentage, yet we feel so important every day
| Unless we’re down, who’s all down? Will it just be for today?
| The dark skies roll around
| Will this be the last time they come
| Will it be the last time for me
| Will it be the last storm for the world
| I don’t know
| But it will be for me
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