Remarkable as it seems
we are here and it is now
but that doesn't mean a thing

Amazing as it all may be
we are who we are
though our lives are nothing but brief

Insignificant as it may appear
we have grown up through the past
in order to live in the future

Disappointing as it always is
the picture we hold of ourselves
rarely matches the one of which we dreamed

Unlikely as all of this can be
we are here and it is now
but the amazing thing is the impossibility
is that with you holding on with me
I think we can be happy

Starlight, Star bright
why do the monsters
come out at night?

Equal parts the product
of rampant inaction
and furious cynicism

Both omens and harbingers
of the tiding's
sudden illness

Their forms blot out what light
is left in the day
retrospection brings only fright

Tearing apart what is dear
time after time
until the kinder fate
is for me to
nip in the bud
any feeling of fondness
for a cold heart
is much less painful
then the gnashing of teeth
and tearing of their claws

Moments of grace, moments of glory
times I can be myself and not be sorry
but they never stick around never seem to stay
unlike the clouds hanging in the skies on a rainy day
Clarity has become rare since silence became violent
when I said that I love you, but you remained quiet
reeling from the knife you twisted in with force
from my attachments to you I need a divorce

I've never been one to gripe or complain
but lately the way you've been saying my name
has left me completely drained
and there are terrible thing Ive wanted to say
but karma's a ***** i don't want to **** (with)
so I'll sing sad songs like you keyed up my truck
in a bad country love song
gone so very wrong
left here a knight without a kingdom
fighting for nothing just like Don Juan

But growing up means letting go
I hope you find love
some other place, someone else's arms
but never mine
I'll attempt the same and I just know we will be fine

This is a place to write and right
the wrongs
that despite their numbers
I can conquer them
through blood, sweat,
tears and ink
until they re specters
of their former selves
or the same fate
befalls me

When the last spark of wonder fades
from the eyes of our young
when we decide to live in a blase' Universe
only then are we lost, only then
have we ceased to find our North Star
and we become refugees
while sitting in out own homes

Trying to rekindle  our flame, that old spirit
but alas we lack the spark
Ingenuity has died, cleverness lies withered
Renaissance will not come
for wonder has perished and us along with it