Don’t tell me, you’ve got trouble again.
I know this dire disease,
Having Chaos as a friend.

To get real chummy with calamity,
Confusion, and despair.
Surrounded by uncertainty.
It’s not your fault.
It must be them.
Nothing’s ever truly fair!

And I know it’s probably not self-inflicted
But there’s always a roll of the dice
Or a twist of fate involved.

And I know there’s a lot
That must be taken into consideration,
But your future’s more obscure
Than a new moon in a Mississippi delta fog.

Though I must admit,
You always manage to find a shoulder to cry on,
Except your supporters seldom seem to stay.
Even if they do sympathize,
There’s only so much a body can take.

We are bound to wonder why nothing changes,
This raging battle, this perceived loss of control.
While you buy another pair of shoes,
Bitchin’ all the while, about a cold and viscous world.

Yes, one would think that you‘d grow tired,
Being the vortex of a funnel cloud,
The center of a whirlwind,
And without a hand to pull you out…

There simply is no end to it!

No doubt, you would sleep much better.
It would seem you’d want a moment of
Respite, a modicum of relief.
But you fear it would be stranger still,
Being cast adrift on that introspective sea.

Yes, the lifeboat makes you nervous,
You shan’t dare hope to grab the oars.
And it’s a bit too much, I fear,
Expecting you to row!

See how the waterfall draws nearer,
The cliffs you know so well.
You are hanging on for dear life.
You are laughing in the face of hell.

This, your favorite pastime,
Up in the air and unresolved.
This, your inevitable lot in life,
While in the company of Chaos.



Michael S. True
8/5/14 last edit 8/7/14