Eight on the Ballantine Scale - Wars

The breakers seemed, to, scatter out like mice

from the shade I made, to perforate the light

To draw it in, make it dim, take the edge off the world

Another glass, we move too fast, I’ll bend the corners 'till they curl

Make a mark, make a dent, we are all but dead and spent

If we’re all bricks and mortar, all made of the same stuff

Why do these seas all say, that I am not enough

Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath

There’s only so much left of me

Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath,

I can’t see beyond the trees

I am my own shoreline,

an isle in retreat, consumed

by callus commotion,

dissent and defeat.

How can I let you in?

And I’ve put my hands in the ground and felt roots

But I’ve put them in the same place and felt nothing too

I’ve scraped against these shores till my thoughts have worn dead

And I can’t stop the smoke, inside my head

I’m trapped, trying to reach out past these screens

Desperate to guide someone, through my broken beams

Cause the solitude scintillates, in its own kind of way

But it’s the liking it that feeds, this wanton disarray

I am but a glance, scarcely a whisper to the sea

Worn down and terrified of all I cannot be

So like waves, all day, you can crash upon me

But this island remains, just as desolately.

And I crave the fight, the last war of my own words

I’m tethered to a leather, bound book of crass verse

And though this tongue is poised, the paint stays dry,

So I settled for, these well spoken lies

The melancholy simmered, through bloodshot eyes,

the cursor blinked in, the coruscating light.

So like waves, all day, you can crash upon me

But this island remains, just as desolately.