DKGS: A Diary

He wear confidence on his airs

Like a cheap cologne, so far from home

He locks his heart in his stomach

Like milk-soaked bread, it’s a wonder that he isn’t quite dead yet

He is a solitary idol in a sea of endless pity

Worshiped for his stony face, I’m way off base

Here I am, here I am

Seeing how I see things

There it goes, there he goes

Finding the silver linings

Patching his home and his blankets with dreams

Not everything is quite as golden as it seems

The angel has wings made of bone and of gravel

His halo is crafted of stone, so alone

He wears his confidence wear his heart should be

Emotions so connected, I have been infected

Where is the sculptor whose sculpture I see?

He’s down in the valley, finding more malleable ingredients

He’s looking for substance

That silver lining, so enticing

I wear my confidence beneath my skin

As a sort of insulation, a conflagration of woe

I hold my heart in my hands

Like a half eaten apple, rousing rabble

I sew the linings of clouds into pillows

Silver stitching ‘round the edge, like a row of hedges on a home

There goes the angel

My guardian angel, he fell

But he wears his confidence on his airs

Like cheap cologne, but no one cares

He is so far form home, so alone

But look on the bright side, I haven’t died