Frank Mitchell

Continuous proportion

We get what we give,
And I have been lax in my giving.

Is it time, place, passage of life?
I can hold on to nothing but heartache and strife.
As the world turns around you drift further away.
Is this what I asked for? To whom can I pray,
To deliver me from evil, wash away all my sin.
I’d give anything right now to start all over again.
But we can’t do that; we have come to far now.
Words spoken at midnight, I’m unworthy of that vow.

Watching an eggshell world crack beneath my feet,
I slip and fall, tumbling into a pit of frustration.