UNTITLED

One, two, three, four.

By the fifth I’ll take no more.

Cutting the wind as I go,

I hit my clock, down with a blow.

It’s time to get up,

It’s time to arise.

No longer to sleep,

But be healthy and wise.

Casting off the cover,

I bury my face and hover,

Over the standing out stain,

Stinging again my left arm’s pain. 

I must key my secret,

Lest they seem to find out,

To find me caught red-handed,

My reputation, perpetually branded. 

One, two, three, four.
Cover it up looking clean,

Hiding all that I’ve been,

With a sigh, I play life’s chore.

Tie up my tie real tight,

Lock away all the sight,

Of what again I’ll do tonight.

Paint on the smile alright. 

Dress up the filth in the closet,

Don’t tell them I’ve lost it.

You wouldn’t guess about me,

The underneath my God can see.

You wouldn’t guess about me,

The fact that you are the cause,

The reason I pause and cringe my jaw,

And cry to cry out to God,

Am I the son you hoped for--

The prodigal son, desperate and poor?

Do you love the man that I am,

Would you cover, my red hand?