I spent so long thinking i knew what i wanted
or at least where i wanted to be
only now i see, i didn't know me at all

So I spent so long trying to find what i wanted
Or at least where I wanted to be
I still can only see, I don't know me at all

It used to be I was what everyone though
Barely more than what met the ear or eye
A bad caricature of a headstrong rebel
A façade for a fool with no dreams

You can only spend so much time finding what you want
Not knowing where you want to be
Before you finally see
You're just like me
And I don't know me at all

Tell me where I can go, he said,
just get me out of here.
Give me truth in every form, he said,
be the answer to my prayers.
Listen to this man, she said,
his poison words will taste so sweet to you.
I'm not going anywhere,
anyway.

Hero's the wrong word,
but it calms his mind.
It's what's steadying his hand.
A rationale so absurd,
he'll take what he can get to silence the voices in his head.

Give me something to believe in,
cuz I don't believe in me.
Give me something to hold on to,
and I'll cling tenaciously.
Listen to these men, she said,
their words of death will seem so wise to you.
I was never taught to care anyway.

Hero's the wrong word,
but it calms his mind.
It's what pacifies the guilt.
A rationale so absurd,
he'll take what he can get to silence the voices and he says,

I'd buy anything so I don't have to grow up poor.
I'll go anywhere for you, I'll walk through any open door.
I'd do anything to feel a part of something more.
I'll **** anyone you say to feel fear nevermore.

Hate is a strong word,
but to him it comes as easily as fear.
And fear pervades his soul. He's so far gone.

When was the last time I wrote a poem?
Lord knows its not a hobby of mine,
Shuffling words to find meaning in them;
Suppose everything deserves it's time.
Like filing through old Hallmark cards,
You find out who truly cared
And who did the obligated marred.
The pile is quickly and easily pared.
The unworthy can be cast out,
Love is a two way street.
The realization need not be a rout,
It is part of what makes it sweet.
But then again, who am I to say
What is or isn't anyway.