When you're raking truth across the yard,
you'll tend to stumble over a stick or stone
So, here's my confession
I'm selling until I run out, in this concession
from where I stand
I know not of boundaries
nor cut & dry lands
Special gifts astound me
Pleasing is never easy, when you walk my way
Moods are interchangable
I'm the night before & after day
My skin has thickened almost to a leather
Scars are visible from debris of life
Thoughts; untouchable
Untraceable; they may erupt
Heart's beaten into a sludge
Ego's bruised from spiteful words
Self-esteem's tired & under-weigh
Aggression squirms beneath the surface
Depression meets & merges
They think they know
but what's exact?
I'd tell you more
and I might do that
at the next confession
from my concession
where I stand