I am the cylindrical clay earthenware vessel
With a wide mouth and usually no handles
Releasing evils upon the ominous
Over medicating their misunderstanding
Similar to the cure of ether for the newly ignited
Nestling illness nearer to their sickness
With a sense of deity that even causes Jesus
To present himself in the flame, without his sandals
And the candles are lit in honor of his
Self sacrificed redemption
Being saved from the interpretations of the obscure
To being able to stand pure before
The ones that killed him
Kept his diary near me, hoping that he could hear me
Keeping his memory alive,
So whenever he would decide to die, it would be all right
Because I’d make his enemies fear me

The box was fastened
With many gathered
To open her
As I stood alone and ajar

Prometheus eventually sticks his hand in the fire
To find the liars that exposed to him the bias
That comes at the desires of the gods
See I was suppose to be left closed
Given the attributes of those
Hermes and Charites,
Hera, Horae, and Aphrodite
Containing a burdensome labor
Along with the infirmities of the diseased
Yet, lying at the bottom of me was hope
The last drop of refreshing water
Left lumbering in the bottom of the cup
With the residual questions still remaining
To answer like,
“Why would you not open me back up?”
Seems that we did not consider to mind
The first time, we would act divine
Citing how curiosity was the reason
That you needed to know

The box was fastened

With many gathered
To open her
As I stood alone and ajar

I am the consternation that gave birth to wonder
Bewildering him into believing that he
Could only have 7 accomplishments
And he now stands as a compliment
To the mundane monuments
Built as cheap ass kissing tools
Just to say, the mere mortal did something
Sitting under trees, vehemently waiting for me
To strike them on the head
With inanimate objects to let them know
That I, I was already standing here
With electricity in my feet, waking slowly
By the unknowing, so that the static cling
They feel, wills as a constant reminder
Though you don’t see because of your blinders
Bumping into me, let’s you know
That I am real

The box was fastened
With many gathered
To open her
As I stood alone and ajar

I am incurable; I am misery
I am the grind; I am the machinery
The industry that produces your indisposition
Decorating your contamination with malignancy
The primrose path
The lethargic
The sin
The ego
The id
The fair weather friends
The leniency in the innocence
Found in the ignorance of a delinquency
I am that part of the straight and narrow
That always seems to bend
I was the one who found Pandora’s Box;
I opened it
And then I climbed in…