They keep him down, down on the ground
Calluses and blisters on wrists and ankles where
Metal rubbing and cutting adding to each pound
He has to carry, with agony, the burden of each fare
Loved one ever entered to his life and resound
The echo of thier life before they left him in despair.
Chains keep him down on the dirt he has drowned
In the insults worth dirt and the racism so bare
From lack of knowledge they couldn't get their feet around.
As if all he ever had to do was educate them on their affair
With stupidity. Stupidity because that was only ever their ground
For learning, only ever their way to show desired despair
Because ignorance is another word for stupidity to push around
Like a beach ball, as if it could only ever be good for what its made for nowhere
Else it would ever be nothing else it would do, just stay on the beach frowned
Upon by those who think themselves too smart to see use to care
For a beach ball, because just as he was only ever meant to be wound
In chains, in rotted rusty pounds impaired with words too harsh to prepare
For the fact that the beach ball wasn't MEANT to leave the beach or be profound
To all those who used it. To use with carefree care for oneself with time to spare
Away from the stresses of life, an enabling invitation to break away from foreground
For two three four hours away from the chains of words carried as a repair
Of a backpack Upon the back of glasses waiting to see something in the background.
He has his chains, still picking at his pains he's still waiting for time when his nightmare
Could be proven wrong and he'd mean something to someone, to himself. And surround
Himself with levers and pulleys that would see his chains that couldn't bring them down with a scare
Of anger or desperate moments of self harm those chains wont leave his surround
But he wasn't MEANT to be loud, he wore an impact more than he could think to declare
A quiet impact so blinded to him because the metal of his chains reflects only a playground
Of destitute lands, deserted homes and dense floods of suicide but not hiding his spare
Tire enough for him to know its not there. He knows its there. In the confound
Silence when he's resting gaining his strength waiting for a time when he can get out of his shell ensnare
Of this life, where the chains are still there. So he stays quiet there cuz this is his life his battleground.
Where the impact is silent but there, where sparks are seen by others and used for repair.
