The search to cure my Plight

I was going to write some poetry
With some deep shit words
About how the paths of tomorrow may never come true,
With added rhyming sultry
About how my fucked-up heart keeps pushing me through.
About how life might never
Get me where I long to be.
But then I got on my ride
After hitting and creasing
To realise I will always keep being dismissed.
They told me before; I should ask the lord for forgiveness.
So I went to look for God in the confinements of the church.
But, they never taught me to pray.
Next thing I know they are passing the money tray.
The priest overlooked me,
Said I wasn’t dressed to please,
Next time I should make an effort
Maybe wear something more sleaze.
So I wrote him a cheque
Hoping that a baptism ticket he’d sell
Tried to buy my children way out of hell.
But that didn’t stick.
As the heathen I was born to be I went to a guru,
He told me I needed to chill

Handed me a pill

That I proceeded to spill.
I was petrified
He gave me such fright,
Told me my pineal gland might be calcified.
To cure my plight,
He suggested I woke up and suck a lemon
Each and every day.
I told him, fuck it!

That shit ain’t right.

So I went to the Doctor,

Told him I wasn’t ‘aight.
He googled the answer

And gave me no option

Prescribed lots of water

To swallow the medication
That’d appease my exhaustion.
This was all just too feign
With no indication to rid of This soul-eating pain.
So I fell to the ground,
Yet not Earthbound.
Allowed Gaia’s sybarites to sip me entirely.
Took advantage of the starkness

Found there in my darkness.
And only when I reached the bottom of the chasm
Did I climb back up with enthusiasm
Through the wonders of the Looking Glass.

So fuck you bastards
And kiss my ass.