What mysteries do you appear to hold?
Or challenges you wish to throw at me.
Threats with wild turns,
Don't always seem to be happening.
But I digress in your wanderlust ways,
Of wishing for some past days.
The ones living up to your status quo,
But what do I know.
When I in myself,
Trapped in the life I'm creating.
Can only see what you show,
This I know.
We the sinners fallen from grace,
Out of place.
Yet time is not always kind,
This I've learned everytime.
Beaten into me,
Reminded again and again of yore.
And there the past can always painfully replay,
That I am not allowed there.
I have no place to stay.