The Fence

            
     
    
   
    Picket be this fence so white, starlet in nature, divine in time.
    This fence I sit on, white and wonky, seperating me and my traditions. 
    I can't seem to find the staircase down, for fear of falling down

      I'll sit up here, minding my own; until I'm shot down.
    This space inside my head, is seeping out my eyes and from my throat.
    My head erupts, so many of this dark dusty timid musted moat
    It separates me and my demise, untimely be thine toat.
    These voices just won't let me go, I mustn't tread I need to find a boat.
    for when these holes start speaking out 

    the only thing I fear to fear is that my fears will be my doubt 
    doubting that, of which I lay, baron wastelands fill my brain
    steering now, this boat I wrote remembering it note by note.
    Clearing now, such foggy air and lucid sound

     If not live but dead to be, be'th I  in white noise, drowned? 
     this foreign noise apears to peer into my eyes.  
    I pray to god to save my life, hear it now as tears I cry.

     Demons scream for me and my, have I now to kill my mind!
    To give up hope  I'll show them up  

     I tie this rope, around my neck and then let go.
    But no, work is here yet to be done
    Tough be the road, yet to come
    Callus be thine hands and mind.
    Fye to ye, haseth I not fallen yet!    
    So now i'll stay here minding my own
    Apparent yet to me,
     for when the time comes to be shot down, 
    I'll just stay here minding my own.