Often times I sit in silence,
And marvel, laugh, decry my present,
I look around and dust my tux,
That side of life I’ll never have,
It’s glean and groan, be seen and moan,
Then beam and boast of dreams and roads,
I live through life in front of a screen,
With a million collages just making the scenes,
So instead of a rush at the prospects of joy,
Or honest dismay at optimism ploy,
I live in presets of some memories stored,
Every collage has some feeling attached,
With more running themes like betrayal and pain,
And deep paranoia in joy or in pain,
The trouble is now I don’t feel like I live,
Cause up till this time, I have seen all I need,
Deep in my head, thus is soldier and king,
Masterful cynic, a child, and a beast,
I live each of these a thousand lives at a time,
And so every day I don’t know who I’ll be,
It’s shameful and sad, sometimes vengeful and mad,
But hey, that’s life,
Yeah, my hell and my key.
@Job Kerry
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