Margin to Margin
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
Only appropriate that I title a piece after my blog...though I actually wrote this before I decided to enter the time sucker that is blogging. And apparently I saved a number of other files in an undisclosed location that even I don't remember...here's what I have for now....thanks for reading.
SuspecTed
Margin to Margin
On nights like these I write all the way to the margin,
And I allow myself a large margin of error,
Error to this bearer on nights like these.
As the bearer of bad news don’t confuse…my errors as a silver lining,
It’s just coincidental timing…you’ve observed,
And if I seem unnerved…I am,
I’ve never felt compelled to pretend everything is fine in this fairyland.
In the future your personality and character will be assessed according to their brand,
And mine is in the discount bin as I climb rank at the Salvation Army,
While the great lack of salvation is what truly alarms me.
How many of them truly want to harm me,
few can really say,
and few may…
Take a swing in our direction,
Though the thought of doing so excites them like some metaphorical erection.
But this one bends downward in the southern direction.
Limp and unable to perform,
Unable to learn,
Though we yearn for something to take hold,
Something to make the young feel old…or at least less young.
The less and less we like ourselves, the happier we become,
The more and more it becomes apparent,
That on this we have stood…or so we thought,
We were scraping out our own private plot.
But we’re diggin holes to bury ourselves,
And we’re preparing our eulogies to wish us all well.
SuspecTed
Margin to Margin
On nights like these I write all the way to the margin,
And I allow myself a large margin of error,
Error to this bearer on nights like these.
As the bearer of bad news don’t confuse…my errors as a silver lining,
It’s just coincidental timing…you’ve observed,
And if I seem unnerved…I am,
I’ve never felt compelled to pretend everything is fine in this fairyland.
In the future your personality and character will be assessed according to their brand,
And mine is in the discount bin as I climb rank at the Salvation Army,
While the great lack of salvation is what truly alarms me.
How many of them truly want to harm me,
few can really say,
and few may…
Take a swing in our direction,
Though the thought of doing so excites them like some metaphorical erection.
But this one bends downward in the southern direction.
Limp and unable to perform,
Unable to learn,
Though we yearn for something to take hold,
Something to make the young feel old…or at least less young.
The less and less we like ourselves, the happier we become,
The more and more it becomes apparent,
That on this we have stood…or so we thought,
We were scraping out our own private plot.
But we’re diggin holes to bury ourselves,
And we’re preparing our eulogies to wish us all well.