Perhaps it is fated,
has it not always seemed so,
that I would be here
you be there
and the trees continue on their terrible voyuerism.

Perhaps it was always meant to be,
the smothered doubt we carry,
the sights we set to see,
but never seem to absorb,
like oil cruising on water.

Perhaps I have it wrong,
this song of mine which plays like a record,
and the record is not broken,
but I play it anyway,
over and over until the taste hangs heavy on my tongue.

Words grow stale like bread,
it doesn't take long.

Perhaps I have been walking in a way that is not walking,
skipping past the important parts,
jumping over the things that matter,
standing still in the dark puddles of my youth,
staring at you from afar.

Perhaps I truly am the villain of this movie,
deluded to think I have a semblance of good,
only to be consumed by the knowledge,
lies,
that I am the toxic entity that has ruined this life of mine.