Your Creations

I’m like a dog on a leash barking at the passing cars.

Well, at least that’s what you have to say

About me in smoke filled bars.

But when was the last time you checked my collar?

Was the chain strong enough

To choke my pride with dollars?

And I know you’re paranoid these days, it shows,

Because I no longer howl at the moon

Whenever you feel low.

You’re looking behind your shoulder when it’s quiet

Because you know you taught me well

How to be proudly violent.

It hangs over your head, the confusion and disrespect.

You can’t fix my lust for blood

With a significant check.

And you don’t dare to ever look under your bed –

That’s where I dragged all the corpses

Of those you left for the dead.

So I might be the dog on a leash but I truly believe

You are the man tortured by his own creations

In his sleep.

-JW