Face

Came across this poem/song I wrote about...two years ago. It feels quite...apt at the moment. So I thought I'd share it here.

"Face"

I am two and twenty years of age as of months before
but have I become any wiser
and even if I have would I know?
How would I know
and how can anyone tell

The truth is often always nothing but lies
narrowed down to its barest of forms
that don't we all have, encountered?
one way or another

I need to get to the bottom
of this mess, oh all this mess
haven't done me any favors
save to confuse and frustrate
the hell out of my being
I don't want this to turn into
another of those things we could just
throw away and forget

I've never known silence to be this still
the lack of voices is damning
is coldly haunting
If rain were to fall on my head, as of right now
would I feel
it drop?
would I feel
its pressure?
and would I feel myself getting wet
because
I haven't been breathing for the longest time

The air that passes through my lungs exist
only so that I don't decay
and the impact of the bright sun
I haven't felt
It's never been warm or light in here
for ages and I
haven't been what you call alive
for sometime now
so I'll think it's wise to sleep some more
slip into these dreams where I
can at least escape from all the
bitter and the unknown
I don't want to face
No I don't ever want to face.