Confession

 
I don’t know how much influence
I’ll have in this world
I’m not even sure how much influence
My soul has to my heart
And my heart to my mind
And my mind to my lines
They all seem so
D i s c o n n e c t e d  
At times
And if I was being honest
I would have to admit
I have a bit of a compulsive habit
To be less than truthful  

Mostly to myself
Surrounding my psyche
With delusions so I’ll never
Have to deal with what’s
Actually rotting within me
I guess now I’ve come to a point
Where must choose in between
Progression and confession
Forfeiting inauthenticity
Because what will my influence matter
If it really isn’t me