What a fool to have loved, and love again.
To walk through puddles indoors,
Just to step outside onto hardwood floors.
With an ache in his step,
And a wonder like a child's,
Will he ever realize,
Somethings in life just aren't worth while.
With each moment collapsing,
Of and ***** so taxing,
One can only wonder,
is there something wrong...
...with him,
Or her,
With love or life?
Why do the best things make it hard to sleep at night?
Why does his greatest joy always carry such sorrow.
Rivers over flooded, no hope for tomorrow.
A future so elegantly constructed and nurtured in his mind,
Slowly deteriorates with every second of time.
Passing is the wind, the day, the night.
Faces swimming in a sea of numbers,
But destined to walk alone toward his grave.
Buried alive he screams for mercy,
And prays,
To a love he can't fully explain,
In hope for some clarity and guidance,
For matters one in the same.
But stationed on this plane of existence,
At this moment,
wandering in pain.
He musters up enough courage and drive
So as to reclaim,
That confidence that once was,
To carry him to his loves embrace.
Is he a fool?
Yes...
But he wouldn't have it any other way.