Bruises

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Prose

Prose is a form of language that exhibits a natural flow of speech and grammatical structure rather than a regular rhythmic structure as in traditional poetry, where the common unit of verse is based on metre or rhyme. Though, as T. S. Eliot noted, while "the distinction between verse and prose is clear, the distinction between poetry and prose is obscure". Developments in modern literature, including free verse and prose poetry have tended to blur any differences. more »

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Be a pity if I come this far to waste it.
But in the city I'm from nobody ever makes it,
I just need a way to prove them wrong
Fresh skin to paint my bruises on..
Heaven knows I could use the space on me lately.

Wasted time, wasted time ahh its keeping me awake at night,
And lately I been chasing daylight trying to make it right,
But in a way its like the more I try the more my pace declines,
Wasted time oh how I hate the sight.
Say it twice, make sure I phrase it right.
Id say in life it is the bane of mine, 
They say tomorrows another day but when it's come and gone away
And everything is still the same how many more times can we say the line.
Wasted time Oh how it plagues the mind.
Feels like this worry is a mate of mine, 
And I don't think he'll ever leave my side until the day I die,
And when I'm old and grey I know that it would be a shame if i
Spent all this time climbing up this mountain to a greater height, 
and never take the leap of faith Cuz I was too afraid to fly.
Man what a waste of time
And if I never make it i will look into my babies eyes
And have to try explain why there daddy tried to chase a life that wasn't ever meant for him,
How am I supposed to say that I had nothing else  in place so I just hope whatever wage that I can scrape together May suffice.
Guess you gotta pay the price, to play the dice.
The house always wins the same applies.
Can we call it a mistake if we made it twice.

Be a pity if I come this far to waste it.
But in the city I'm from nobody ever makes it,
I just need a way to prove them wrong
Fresh skin to paint my bruises on..
Heaven knows I could use the space on me lately.

Swear this could be my heaviest verse, 
Man you could fill a book with all the lessons I learnt, 
Stuck in a perilous world..
Don't underestimate the power of some eloquent words,
Put together they can influence for better or worse.
You know that time is evanescent it can never reverse
Any second we could perish and be buried in dirt,
And any memory left of us will eventually blur.
The devils at work,
Maybe our demons are the thing that keep us tethered to earth
And once we let em go that's when we head to heaven or hurt
I knew before they left they'd see the death of me first. 

Got me worried all the time
I can't help feeling like this is all for nothing
Give me this one thing..

I been reaching out with both my hands 
But things don't seem to go to plan
Is it too much for me to want to be something?

Be a pity if I come this far to waste it.
But in the city I'm from nobody ever makes it,
I just need a way to prove them wrong
Fresh skin to paint my bruises on..
Heaven knows I could use the space on me lately.

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