My Being: Still Dirty

Torments none further your expectations of hope,
when do you clothe beneath that rope,
under dreams of being not so you,
wondering why, where is it true?

I don’t need a plan to live,
approval of those that won’t give,
surrendered by transmitions of pity
under water, cleaning skin, still dirty.

Visiting graves full of betrayals,
you said you would, death behind your tails.
Minutes weren’t that, weren’t time
pride of a past that doesn’t cost a dime

ready or not... I'll stay where I am.