August is cruel too.

I find my self twenty-one.

Eating the truths omitted.

I find my self never needing an excuse to be late.

But rather need and excuse to be just kind.

I could find myself without a job without a dime,

If only to mention something cheaper down the line.

I found that the truth is sold,

Kept under lock and key.

I know that justice is not blind,

If it was, how would lawyers make money?

I know without someone to love,

Surely I am doomed to destroy.

I am fond to sew all wounds,

But they just won't sit still.

I in those ranks know the frustration all the same,

Screaming so wounded, seeking someone else to blame.

I will try it again and breathe forces me too,

But I'll do it without a glint of hope, until I.....