Taken For Granted

To be taken for granted is a bad feeling indeed
Not to be taken as a servant nor as a noble steed
You are just entirely forgotten until the moment of need
It is only when you are needed that without you they bleed

But what happens in that moment when you are not there
If you are not there to help them, could they even bear
Could they do without you when life hangs by a thread of hair
Would they even realize they need your help, would they even care

They acknowledge your presence when you seldom make yourself known
And even you know they cannot manage the attempt on their own
But you know you are taken for granted, so you keep your quiet tone
You leave it up to them to discover that you are their corner stone

In their structure, you are the most important piece
When you are finally gone, so is the resting peace
Everything falls apart, their patience doth decrease
And when the moment is said and done, you release

You stand up and tell them the fault of their ways
They look up to you and are blinded by the sun's burning rays
You show them how truly insignificant are their plays
And when they notice their fault they show you their praise

If only the world were as just
When in reality it is just a bust
Like how water is needed for iron to rust
Even though you are taken for granted... You are a must...

Searching for Myself

I took the afternoon to walk through the depths of my soul
to see what I might find. As I walk down the dusty and dingy
corridors I notice the cracks in the foundation and the water
dripping from the ceiling. That needs to be fixed. I check out
some of the rooms to see what I've forgotten or lost. I found
a few dollars in the cellar with the door with the broken latch.
I found a photo of an old friend hiding behind a mirror frame.
I found my lucky jeans stuck under a fallen boulder from the
ceiling at the end of one hall. Looking as hard as I can I still
can't seem to find my sanity. I can't find my deepest faith.
I can't find my romance. I can't seem to find myself. Who
am I, that I can't find myself in myself. How long have I
tried to be someone that I'm not that I've forgotten who I
really am? Am I in the room with the nicely made bed?
Am I in the room with the books about sugar-plum fairies
that dance over children's heads? Am I in the room with the
flat screen TV, the room with the bunk-bed, the room with
the giant lamp that makes music when you flip the switch?
I don't know where I am to be found. All alone inside my head,
forced to find the answers myself. Or am I not alone after all?
Is the one they call Him with me inside myself? Can he help
me find who I am? The answers I seek are somewhere in
here. I just don't know where to look. Please, I need help.
Is there a secret chamber I am not aware of? Please, help.