Freedom of Willful Misconception

You seem to think
that I am stuck in a cage
while you are free range.
How is it working for you?
Your burdens are scattered
to the wind.
I could do that too,
but I am not that kind.
These songs you sing to yourself,
of blessings and curses, seem like
the same old runaround.
Paint by numbers,
but don't go out of the lines.
Take the time.
Check your head.
Are you so sure that you are free?
Tired old jokes,
same old crutches,
bargain bin drugs,
soap box churches.
Do they serve
to reveal your true self?
I think not.
That's not what this is about.
Look in the mirror.
It's the toughest thing
You can do.

Happy Birthday Mom

You spent my childhood taking it away,
chalking it up to your master plan.
Now, you deny me my virtues
though I've grown into a man.
Your ideas of morality
and how the world exists,
are distorted by your illusions
on the mountain where they sit.
Your petty jealousies get you nowhere
except into a deeper hole.
Build a wall around your ego
while the rest is bought and sold.
So where are you now
with your broken dreams and broken promises
left to comfort you at night?
I hope it was all worth it to say that you were right.
Keep looking out for number one,
since that is your favorite game.
Let's see how everything works out
when you're the only one left to blame.
No one there to challenge you
and therefore safe and sound.
Right now you just know Jack and shit
and guess what, Jack left town.