Should you follow footsteps
walked in blackouts?

Age bring wisdom
to some.
To some it brings concrete
to set them in their ways
and it weighs them down to younger days.

Rage forms little more than a fist,
a tight grip that holds. It unfolds
under the eyelids; that's where he hides it.
In control of a beast
that should've been tamed or destroyed.

I saw prints in the debris of adolescence
and followed in an immature suit.
Eventually this led me into the night
docile, hostile and not always an honest smile.

An enemy that's almost like a brother to me
preys on my frailties, daily. But
if words form *****
then I am the four walls.

Why does it sometimes feel
like I'm the role model?