Loaded and Loathing

you gifted me with your grace

a saviour without a solid face

a chance I'd surely devour

by the turning of the hour

how much longer till I break?

how much of this can I take?

a feed on a life derranged

loathing for some change

nothing more than minor matter

a bit more than just bitter batter

dead skin and dead cells

an illusion of rusty bells

loaded up and fathoming

the tolerence it will bring

to my shameful face pierced

by the sun's womb so fierce

my arm just twitched a little

for this makes mefeel brittle

death sentence?...not really

biting the bullet?...maybe

still bringing food to the table

in my mind, a simple label

such preposterous hostility

toward my stale lack of ability

to rein all those monsters in

by those threads I've stitched within

loaded and loathing

before, a feather floating

now my freak is unleashed

and I'm controlling this disease

no joke, no jesting - I declare

I will not break from your stare

the eye of the fire does linger

but I am no longer the finger

upon the trigger, I was before

and to all, I have a gun no more

just a battle with this legend

a bit of fear without an end

a spiral down, and wayward

for a moment I did waiver

but I grasp at blank torches

while I regain all my forces

once flattened upon the ground

I stepped upon my own mound

of ashes that was not really me

so I will just say -let this be....