I Am, Or At least I Used To Be

Blog, read, silently interpret and not mention it. Thats the cycle.

I prayed this morning. For the first time in a long time.

I figured for all the times I said I would, that now, if any time, was the best time.

So I did. I prayed for direction. For signs. And I got them.

Now it's what i'm supposed to do with my understanding thats the new trick.

What to do, what to do, what to do.

A good man doesn't drink
And I've been drinking alone
So what does that make me?

My hands they always shake
And no one's calling my phone
So what does that make me?

And I know the kid with his guitar
So drunk and anxious
Has been done to death
So tell me what hasn't
I'll try it

Because I'm selfish enough to wanna get better
But I'm backwards enough not to take any steps to get there

And when you realize it's a pattern
And not a phase
It's what you've become and it's what you will stay
That's ballgame

'Cause I don't got room in my life for anyone else
And I've driven away all the people that could help
And I still don't even know what I need to do to fix myself

There's a clamp around my chest
That tightens every time I lapse into
Another sorry story

About my miserable collapse
A bronze box I keep encased in glass
And dust off whenever I want your pity

'Cause lately I've had to come to grips with scope and figure
How my problems stack up in a world two steps from ruin
(Or maybe it's rapture)

Well, either way, I realize that my shit's about as small as it could be
But that makes me feel worse for even feeling this bad in the first place