RMC

Chain my soul to whole
blocks of cement I meant
the best intentions my soul
I control my best and vent.

If not for the expression
of innocence deep in turmoil
we’d find graves too soon
but hell we all find the soil.

I love good vibes I chide
intentions failed mentioned
as forward progress strides
my mind into dimensions.

I think alot but I forgot
sometimes a soul can rot
but sweet is the smell
of roses growing I spot.

Instances in the cloud loud
that make me proud crowd
me none have the chains
beckoned you wear a shroud?

My face it has gone along
synonymous with sad songs
and where my heart always
seemed a place I belonged.

The strut is gone age is rage
that fades in the blades
that cut into my strut enough
where I can see fade does pain.