the rope

how can I find light,
when it gets so dark?
how can I find warmth,
when it gets so cold?
I can cry down deep in a hole,
I can just sit here and cry down deep in a hole,
where crazy cunts and conniving pricks have control,
as they puppeteer this coked-up carnival,
and it's sycophantic vitriol,
and cookie cutter conformists fight to fit the mold,
or,
when it's get really dark,
and it gets really cold,
I can reach to meet The Self,
the broken vessel,
from which divinity shines through like gold,
and I can scour the heart for a ray of hope,
I focus the mind,
and use all my body,
to pull the tattered soul,
up the rope.