Haunted and hunted by questions and what ifs, secrets and lies, troubled truths, and unanswered why’s. Nobody seems to know, and whoever knows doesn’t care. I know I’m not supposed to look, but I can’t help but stare. I’m fragile, broken, bent and bruised, crumpled up and thrown away, useless and used. Fucked up in the head, troubled heart and soul, living but already dead, filled past empty but never full. I’m a troubadour who’s lost his voice. The words come and go but don’t speak to me and I don’t know why. I lie there confused, staring at the ceiling, searching for the sky. Where is this going? Are we already there? It’s déjà vu. I’ve already come and gone, and I don’t know where.
Hope for the worst, plan or the best. Everything is what it is. Is this a game, or is it a test? Am I winning or losing, is anyone keeping score? What are the rules? What’s the point? Does it fucking matter anymore? Turn up the music, turn the world down. The songs all know me, and comfort me when everyone’s around. Eventually the impossible becomes the inevitable. The unstoppable object moves the unmovable force. Whatever has happened will happen, and what was will never have been. You killed what I believed in, and undone things that never happened. The past isn’t what it never was, and it will never be that way again.
You can’t be mine without me. I’m not strong enough to hold you, and I’m too weak to let you go. There’s so many things I never want to tell you, and so many secrets you should know. I can close my mouth, but you can read my eyes. See my empty soul, my deepest secrets and my
Rambling thoughts, running words, dreams and lines. I’ve over run my pen, and over stayed my time.