Sand Paper
Posted: Sun Apr 04, 2010 8:01 am
A long day full of appointments and pills/
He loves his job but the voices have poisoned the thrill/
Examining patients to pinpoint a sickness/
But their delusions grew and created voids in his business/
Annoyed with the wishes his patients produce/
Tracing the roots of their illness to awaken the truth/
He takes the abuse, overworked so he's bringing it home/
Locks the door and then hears a ring from the phone/
Rotates the keys once more, sprints to receive it/
The news enters his ear and for an instant he's speechless/
He can't begin to believe it, his brother has died/
The pain is so sharp, it's like something ruptured inside/
He covers his eyes, his palms absorb the liquid/
Cursing the Lord for making him a war statistic/
Tortured with the guilt, his thoughts run short/
Wrenching his brain until it's lost and warped/
He hops in his car, presses the clutch and ignition/
Turns on the wipers but its the tears obstructing his vision/
No more trust in religion, he heads to the bar/
Thinking a few drinks will help with mending the scars/
Liquor enters his heart, he can't open his eyes/
Stumbles to his car, finds his keys and goes for a drive/
No one in sight, floors it, he's rather die than deal/
Cries conceal the road as he sleeps behind the wheel/
To be continued...
He loves his job but the voices have poisoned the thrill/
Examining patients to pinpoint a sickness/
But their delusions grew and created voids in his business/
Annoyed with the wishes his patients produce/
Tracing the roots of their illness to awaken the truth/
He takes the abuse, overworked so he's bringing it home/
Locks the door and then hears a ring from the phone/
Rotates the keys once more, sprints to receive it/
The news enters his ear and for an instant he's speechless/
He can't begin to believe it, his brother has died/
The pain is so sharp, it's like something ruptured inside/
He covers his eyes, his palms absorb the liquid/
Cursing the Lord for making him a war statistic/
Tortured with the guilt, his thoughts run short/
Wrenching his brain until it's lost and warped/
He hops in his car, presses the clutch and ignition/
Turns on the wipers but its the tears obstructing his vision/
No more trust in religion, he heads to the bar/
Thinking a few drinks will help with mending the scars/
Liquor enters his heart, he can't open his eyes/
Stumbles to his car, finds his keys and goes for a drive/
No one in sight, floors it, he's rather die than deal/
Cries conceal the road as he sleeps behind the wheel/
To be continued...