Do I even need to mention
how thick the tension
is when everyone can feel it?
Waiting for me to split the deck and deal it–
I don’t know if it’s just my pride
but I can’t seem to decide
if I should serve the hand at all
when I can’t control how the cards will fall.
It’s not the piety
that leads me to forgive
It’s my anxiety
taught me this is the only way to live
Always keep a hold
on this level of control
Keep this sweaty grip
Never let my finger slip
It’s self-deception, buried by repression
just feeds into my depression.
And I know–
I should just let it go
before it breaks
snaps the string and hits me in the face.
But how can I ever hope to aim it–
when I can’t even seem to claim it?
I know I should let the tension slack–
because all it does is hold me back
like a sling unshot–
But sometimes I feel like it’s all I’ve got.
See, that’s the thing about it–
I don’t know who I am without it.
What is Inktober? You can learn more about it here.