Walking through the breeze,
Somehow to him it feels like home,
Only through the nighttime air,
And only when he’s alone.
There are so many issues that have been sedated,
But none actually exist,
Save the problems entirely created,
By his very own consciousness.
As he walks along he thinks about
How perfectly he was raised,
He knows it’s his fault, and his alone,
That he goes through such pain.
He was dealt a royal flush,
In the final round of the game,
But for no reason he gave into the bluff,
And stained the spotless family name.
It’s something that must be let go,
But it is embedded in his mind,
It’s what he thinks as he walks alone,
And toward happiness he remains blind.
At home he sits upon the couch
And lets cold whiskey still his mind.
He puts a cigarette to his mouth,
Takes a drag and says, “everything’s going to be fine”.
Emotions come as often as they go,
It just depends on the situation and time.
He’s always tried not to let his show,
And due to this it’s himself that he confines.