Broken we sit and dream alone
in a world that won’t stop turning tragic tales
into melancholy doses of strange beauty
and the winds only whisper of love
to the lost that have never known
the way or comfort of home
and the road is deserted of everything
but heartache and dim scattered moon shadows
and somewhere in the dark corners
of hidden forests creatures lurk
with false promises and bad breath
pointing out suspicious short cuts to happiness
with the path littered with the bones of dead innocence
maybe some of our own
maybe some of the ones we left behind
on the way to adult maturity and shame
as if believing in ourselves so little
wasn’t enough of a burden
we had to make a list of the what not to do’s
when it comes to finding pleasure
this is ok
that is most definitely not
and if it feels good you better not do it
because it feels good
only do it because that is the way it is suppose to be
and if it isn’t
you’ve been warned
that someone or something or some sick and perverted god
is watching and judging and jerking in horror
at all our sinful acts
and the list has been checked
and the video watched twice
and it’s all the same over and over again
pawns without a board or a square
pretending to be kings that love queens
and queens that love fools
and fools that love themselves
with fists grasped in self gratification
building castles that crumble
as we sit alone in broken dreams