You’ve blockaded the exit,
She claimed her corner.
You’ve sliced your mentality,
She’s your only donor.

Easy to avoid,
But impossible to outrun.
High on her rage,
And the taste of the gun.

The water crashes and churns,
Our vessels are thin.
We poke and we ****,
But what do we win?

The hands of your hope,
Carry a fistful of eternity.
She tastes the sweet nectar
Of escaping insanity.

The red lights glare,
You’ve snapped into reality.
The givers take your hand,
And lead you to finality.

You look into her eyes once more.
Young, reckless, and restless.
The conscious mind can intervene.
One is never helpless.

The curtains are drawn.
The lights are off.
The applause has ceased.
This is the feeling of crashing.
This is colliding into the past,
Falling into dirt.
But the show must go on.

You’re center stage,
And the warmth of the spotlight beckons.
The audience is chanting,
“Closer. Closer. Closer.”
The show must go on.

Your confidence shot dead.
Your hope crushed beneath a boot.
Your love twisted and contorted.
Your composure: broken.
But the show must go on.

You think and think and think.
You pray for faith,
In yourself and others.
You seek acceptance in her eyes.
They’re gray and foggy,
Much like your fate.
You say it’s not worth it.
But the show must go on.

But why?
Why walk the distance,
If the distance is always growing?
Why sit on Earth,
While the cosmos call your name?
Why try to be what others want,
And instead come out as what they always expect?

Because you’re depended on;
They depend on your eyes,
Just as you depend on theirs.
They depend on your smile,
Just as you beg for theirs.
You don’t just leave the stage.
You don’t just leave your audience.
They depend on you.
They depend on you for your Love.
They depend on you for your Strength.
They depend on you for your Trust.
So,
On with the show.

You’ve blockaded the exit,
She claimed her corner.
You’ve sliced your mentality,
She’s your only donor.

Easy to avoid,
But impossible to outrun.
High on her rage,
And the touch of a gun.

The water crashes and churns,
Our vessels are thin.
We poke and we ****,
But what do we win?

The hands of your hope,
Carry a fistful of eternity.
She tastes the sweet nectar
Of escaping insanity.

The red lights glare,
You’ve snapped into reality.
The givers take your hand,
And lead you to finality.

You look into her eyes once more.
Young, reckless, and restless.
The conscious mind can intervene.
One is never helpless.

I start my day with a smile,
That I paint with your perfume.
I see a wife, I see a dress,
But I am not the groom.

I live everyday remembering yesterday,
And the tears wash my tedious smile away.

I make memories of remembering memories of you.
I daydream of what can be, and what we would do.

My mouth lusts for the taste of the gun,
Your words as warm and doomed as the sun.
I cringe from the pain of a heart that beats for one,
But was always destined for two.

I was only given eyes to see where we have been.
I was only given hands to touch your pretty skin.
I was only given thoughts to punish my sin.
And I was only given a voice to admit,
you win.