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.