The Wheatfields East of Eden

In my life I've spent some time
pouring over line and line
wondering if I did the right thing, but
and one thing the right to strut
to be a winner, be adored
instead I've wound up lonely, bored
with nothing but the words to show
my ups and downs by highs my lows.
A counterfeit affectation, which
projects a visage that begets
what I wish that I can be
what I wish the world to see
a triumph of a man that who
with his words a portrait drew
of happiness and sorrow too
instead the words the shade of blue
the shade of gray and the day
that I withdrew into my shell
with nothing but a shell to sell.

A shell endearing and that shows
my projected ink in rows
to be a king of words and phrase
when behind the wit, malaise
a burden just to last the days
I wanted to love within my life
instead I've found a war, that might
fights inside my mind each night
when I try to sleep I think
the day when which while on the brink
loaded up a gun and spun
1 in 6 my chance when done.

I wanted to be liked, respected
to hide the fact I was neglected
my mother and my father drew
away from me when I was new
and left me in the hands of who
cared for me and when they knew
of my crimes that still would show
the unconditional love, I know.
If they were here right now, I'd say
thank you God for that one day
two people came inside the cage
and liberated me, this page
is but an expression that
conveys the listless words and that
is the only word that to me that
conveys the spirit and my mind
I've chased myself and when I find
a reflection of the eyes of mine