Bitter Truth Empty
by Michael Doyle

I come from the tribe of the dead soul
Spirits lifted in the game of rock-n-roll
There is living yet to be done
In the name of the father and the son

And yet, in the mirrored reflection
A sprawl spins in another direction
I can't seem to find any sense of conviction
Beyond your living this life's eviction

When you look into my lurid eyes
What you see there...is it really a surprise
I've never had the sense to lay down and die
As long as tomorrow shines with a new sky

You hit me hard with your troubled mystery
Telling me that all is the more of history
While you call out your truth of nothing
Earnestly believing it's the greatest something

The bitter truth is that your life is empty
Like a vacuum of your ego that simply
Is worse than a dead soul in its meaning
I wonder when you gave up as a human being

The truth is that you've nothing left to say
What you pass off as music is urban decay
Reverberations left over from a creative force
That you vaguely echo without a single remorse

It must be terrible to know you're stuck in banality
Without a single shred that passes for worthy originality
This man from the dead soul tribe watches you dribble on
As your essence shrivels away until it's completely gone

(c) July 1, 2023  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved