by Devin Mitchell Durbin06 Feb 2014
I’ve got this feeling in my chest.
Like everything could explode.
It’s not original, but it’s from the heart.
I don’t care if it doesn’t matter
To anybody else, it matters to me.
I feel the pulsating, the crippling blow.
I’m sorry if this seems like a reiteration
Of anything I’ve ever written before,
But this is who I am. I haven’t changed much.
I’m still that little boy who wrote
The shortcomings of a fool.
I’m still a little naïve, we always will be.
You can’t change that, we can’t know it all.
I’m sorry but it’s impossible to be so sure
To know that everything will be okay.
It’s nice to try, we’re born to lie
We lie to ourselves every day
We tell ourselves these things
Just so we can make it through the day.
If we spent our entire lives telling the truth
We’d never make it out of the womb.
We’d never been born, because if we knew
If we knew the utter and unknowable truth
We’d die, right there, on the spot.
We couldn't keep on living, we’d die.
We’d just go out like a candle in the dead of night
The wind would snuff us out,
The power of the oceans, and the air
Would come together in a lightning strike.
We’d feel the total contradictions
Constricting our throats,
The air would become heavy,
The haze would become thick,
And the entire Earth would go up in flames.
We’d become absolutely nothing but
The ashes that we were created from.
We are but the total and unnatural sum
Of all the parts of a lie. The human condition.