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Feb 2012
Stupid little games, that’s all we ever play. With no remorse for others as we code the things we say. Day by day as hours go by, we tiptoe around the truth with piercing little lies. Lies that twist and wind and find their way, to an innocent stranger who has now become the prey. Straight through the hearts of those not enough, shoots the misguided youth that handles life rather rough. With complete neglect for the pain that they cause, immaturity blinding them from a nice guy without pause. But we smile and nod when the truth comes out, regardless of the pain that makes us want to shout. And we shake our head in mind numbing fear, as the person with potential simply disappears. And we hold no grudges and simply move on, as our strength reminds our courage that it’s never really gone. So we put ourselves on the cutting block for everyone to see, as we search and search for love and blissful harmony. For obvious perfection that only our blind eyes can see, as we mistake perfections flaws for insecurities. And hold them clutched to our forgiving hearts and say, theirs no price so great that I wouldn't pay. To keep you safe and to give you a life, away from all the worlds struggles and all the worlds strife. And although life goes on we are forever in pain, from the silly little games others played on our brain. We then toss and turn at night and yearn for an embrace, which shakes us from a nightmare of a never-ending chase. Full of unseen lies and enticingly corridors, while being littered with empty promises on the tattered, old floor. Stepping carefully as we cut ourselves on embraces so meaningless, yet yearning for another pointless and emotionless kisses. Only to find the door that turns us right around, to repeat the same grueling process that brings us to the ground. And then we find the will and lift our heads and say, love is possible for this soul…maybe, someday.
Daniel Regan
Written by
Daniel Regan  Lake in the Hills
(Lake in the Hills)   
769
 
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