- the edge of pain -

i met you at your level
slowing down that which drives me
and you throw me a bone and tell me to play with it.
i have always been told not to look a gift horse in the mouth
but when i look at the bone at my feet
it changes from a gift to an ugly reminder
that life never promised to be fair.
and as the radio screams out the song
that there are none so blind as those who will not see
i watch you place your self-imposed blinders upon your face.
beyond the shattered window to your soul
i see you step upon the broken glass
inflicting pain in some sort of sick and pleasurable way.
you sit back in your chair of contention
behind the wall which prevents
you from risking the basic pleasures of life
with a bottle in one hand and want in the other
as you question the very fact that you cannot feel.
i pick up the bone
trying to make a connection to your dreams
and discover that it belongs not to you
but to another victim who has fallen
on the very path i stand on.
your heart cries out
as you stifle it with the thoughts
that your want and your need
hold no importance to your very existance.
and here i stand
holding the bone in one hand and my soul in the other
before your wall watching you sit
in your chair of contention with your blinders on
as you pretend not to care.
i see the wall the bone the blinders
the pain the plea and the sign hanging in your eyes
that says CLOSED.
as i turn away
and seek my own chair of contention
i leave the bone and carry with me
the heavy brick which you have strapped to my back
as you kick me in reminder
that life never promised to be fair.