Mad Season

Mad season
A reason
Never far from the tree
Who I am, me or supposed to be

In the spring
I want and try to be
Grow, into something more
But what for
Paint with all the colors of the wind
To win is a sin
Make me grow up
I’ll never be enough

In the summer
Drowning in bummer
An over abundance
Turns into redundance
The words, the girls, the porn, and gore
I keep asking God what I’m for
All thy blessings
And I’m left guessing

How I want the twigs to snap
I want my life back
Tell me to grow
Let me go
And yet hang me
Let me swing
No reason at all
For another season

In the fall
Goodbye all
Yet there is ground beneath my feet
Chris Hassan says have a seat
Along with The Abomination
And the nation
If I wasn’t around
Where would a new fool be found?

In the winter
Buried beneath earth
Rotten and decomposed
And everyone knows
But I’m watered
Fall in love with someone’s daughter
And I rise
Surprise

Who I am, me or supposed to be
Waiting, hanging, never far from the tree
Strange fruit or give me a reason
To be here, another Mad Season

Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.