She'd written a verse
   on wandering love;
      of hearts that yearned to stray--
         it spoke of home, and now I yearn
            for all that she has
               to say.

did you
      tonight
   come dance
ever believe
      is the night
   the eve
that anything
      you come
   away
could feel
      out of
   with
this right?
      your shell
   me

I'm not a fan of who I have become;
   I know, it seems absurd, even to me.
Each day that breaks I feel a bit more numb.
   Since time itself provides no guarantee
and motivation's often hard to find,
   I do not like the man I have become.
Entire empires rise inside my mind
   although I often keep them under thumb
and then distract my brain through other means -
   to chemical addictions I succumb -
allowing me to flit between these scenes,
   disliking the mistake I have become.
They follow me around with haunting glares,
   a-rattling, like snares upon a drum,
and forcing me, reminding me, to pause
   and loathe the person that I have become.
It feels as though my conscience is at war...
but harsher struggles have been won before.