It’s an attempt

It’s funny trying to write

It’s as if your brain is constantly in flight

It’s like you can never remain focused enough

It’s as if you wish to fight but the crowd is too large

It’s a requirement in some situations

It’s meaningless without your personal purpose

It’s a movement that’s constantly blocked by the memories around you

It’s like a memory you can never seem to pinpoint

It’s that mark on the wall bleeding through your instructor’s words

It’s resting on a razor’s edge named Focus

It’s telling you to listen when all you want to do is speak

It’s a journey through the memories of your Hell

It’s a hope to push through into the realities of your Heaven

It’s swallowing a pill in hopes of dissipating the fog

It’s a simple joke flowing out of your heart

It’s confusing the audience with the intentions of your pain

It’s a weekly attempt at moving on

It’s an attempt

No edits.