LYRIC FOR SALE

By Q-Heffna/2Deep

If I could say something about myself without adding insult to injury,
it would be that too many times in the past have I played with the fires that hindered me.
Oftentimes I would create the quagmire and remain stuck in it for days,
and even once I freed myself from those muddy chains I'd stay bogged down by my malaise.
Habits that had once served me well, all at once, became my scourge.
Then I'd whip myself relentlessly before complaining about the very agony I'd encouraged.
However fortunate I would be, I would persist with methods that were noxious,
so that even during my purest moments my holey soul became more torn and toxic.
A way I would always find, to tighten those twines, until they were securely fixed.
In spite of how I whined, I never changed those designs, and continued to take those risks.
When queried why I didn't care if I died the answer was simply this:
It was my pride, that was shattered inside and I'd felt hollow ever since.
I used to review my perilous past and hang my head in shame.
Now I know those long nights were necessary to appreciate the beautiful break of day.
The teachings acquired were multiple, but one of the clearest, I'd say
is that you get what you earn, and you'll continue to burn, if you take pleasure in juggling flames.