You drew up the story of your life
I was in that story
You drew up a story about me
I fled that story
Dangerous of course to draw
Yet more dangerous to write
I had done nothing while some extreme
Measures were taken
I had drifted
The guilt after all was a feeling
It was that freedom I craved
Like a cold needle in the bloodstream
That was simply the case
The way things were unstated and apparent
Now as you read this poem don't think I was
Trying to state a case or construct a story
It's happened already,
While I was still searching for patterns
What will be done now is the question
Don't ask me when I found love
Don't ask me when I learned fear
Ask me if I should simplify my life for you
I won't lie, my life doesn't unfold that easy
It moves in loops
Almost unbearable
Nights when I threw my face on a sheet of glass
Covered with phantoms
My thief,
My counselor stole my sack of tears
The talk goes on
The law is broken
The jokes, the deaths, the way of life goes on
There is no next grade, just movement onward
Year on year, no more striving to prove proofs already
Proven over and over
This is the year I begin to understand
No more wondering why
-Brandon Hanson
© 2004
I was in that story
You drew up a story about me
I fled that story
Dangerous of course to draw
Yet more dangerous to write
I had done nothing while some extreme
Measures were taken
I had drifted
The guilt after all was a feeling
It was that freedom I craved
Like a cold needle in the bloodstream
That was simply the case
The way things were unstated and apparent
Now as you read this poem don't think I was
Trying to state a case or construct a story
It's happened already,
While I was still searching for patterns
What will be done now is the question
Don't ask me when I found love
Don't ask me when I learned fear
Ask me if I should simplify my life for you
I won't lie, my life doesn't unfold that easy
It moves in loops
Almost unbearable
Nights when I threw my face on a sheet of glass
Covered with phantoms
My thief,
My counselor stole my sack of tears
The talk goes on
The law is broken
The jokes, the deaths, the way of life goes on
There is no next grade, just movement onward
Year on year, no more striving to prove proofs already
Proven over and over
This is the year I begin to understand
No more wondering why
-Brandon Hanson
© 2004