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Unmentioned Motives

It’s the hunt to the call, the weep at the wall

ever proclaimed as clever, but you’ll never surrender

at worst you’ll sputter and stall

 

It’s the reason, the very reason

you render an impassioned applause,

 

It’s the infection, of deepest reflection

to which you’re willing to learn it’s laudable song

and all this despite knowing, in spite of knowing

that you’ve always known your right from wrongs

 

It’s the Integrity of being, a divining sign

Conjured in sharkskin but covered in a sheepish design—

 

It’s the hero, the selfless hero, of folk tales told to you as a child,

It’s the outlaw in black, the handsome villain with tact, and the ever-compassionate ne’er-do-well

that find themselves reeling,  touched by, these feelings—that must’ve been inside em all the while

 

yet I wonder, truly wonder

if the adorers ever  knew

 

yet I wonder, truly wonder

if they knew you did the deeds

 

and not from the goodness, of your being,

but, instead, for the hope you’d find a place to fall

forever, fall

 

yet I wonder, truly wonder

if your adorers every really knew

 

yet I wonder, truly wonder

if they knew you did the deeds

 

and not from the goodness, of your being,

but instead, for the hope that you would fall

fall, forever, fall

Forever, fall

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About hobgoblin2011

I'm a poet and aspiring screenwriter/songwriter with a passion for film, art, photography, philosophy and heavy metal. I love reading, mainly non-fiction, comic books, graphic novels, myth and reference. Family always comes first for me. I'm a proud father to two wonderful pups and two curious cats. I'm also a glutton for punishment aka the life of being a diehard Buffalo Bills and Sabres fan.

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