THROW YOURSELF A BONE

Everything looks clear like you're looking in a mirror.
The only person that you can rely on, the one you call your own — yourself. We're all alone.
The life we live can have rewards if you throw yourself a bone.
If you rely on someone other than yourself, other than your mother, don't rely on other people, it's too risky, like balancing on a steeple.
Chances of success — it's like lighting a room up through a peephole, with a flashlight or a lighter you'd best be a fighter.
Spark a fire with a match and keep it lit with no dry wood until day retires.
It's naive to think that this is something that we depict as proven — care for one yourself and your future's tightly woven.
Driven into madness when one leads you far away from results that you have proven to have wove a nest to stay.
Unless you look into a mirror, be the face of grace that stands out from the shadows and takes you to the place that no one else can lead you — peace and harmony.
And you look at that with eyes to see that the only one is me that can guide me to deliverance in all that we forth come.
Your days are limited, volatile like a loaded gun, quick to unload and quicker to erase.
If that loaded gun shall fail and blow up in your face, existence to be rewritten, another shadow gone.
So only rely on yourself from what we call dusk till dawn.
Take care of responsibility, avoid all humility, and nobody can do this but yourself — you have the ability.
To rebuttal all the hurts that get drawn upon by the reliance of another shuttle,
You think the shuttle carries you into sunny days, but before you know it you're in the dark and out all sun rays.
Left to see no shadow of silence and all alone, like knocking on the door at night and nobody is home.
You stand and listen to the crickets of the night, no shadow's sound. You'll receive the crown of all that's not so bright.
This can tear us from our beliefs and trust and comfort of the night, instead it burdens us with fear of dark and fails our soul with fright.
That like an anchor drags us back, not leading us ahead — halts existence and stalls the clock, and turns the green to red.
It ruins the moments cherished most, the comfort of a bed. Anxiety of the future is a deathly real thing.
Until you can trust yourself and go into life alone,
And remember to reward yourself and throw yourself a bone.
If you trust your instincts, you'll always have a bed to bed up in,
The room of light that you will call your home.
Reflections in the mirror.