Staring down at pink hands.
Stamping forms?
Exploded pen?
It doesn't really matter why they're pink,
But they are.
I wipe them on my clean white shirt.
I can't really remember.
All I know is that I'm living this life.
Wake up, work, sleep, repeat.
I stare down at my feet,
These are not my shoes.
I don't know whose they are,
But they aren't mine.
Wake up, work, sleep, repeat.
Flash back to spray painting your car,
Your clean black car,
Now features fluorescent pink writing.  
I worked my *** off for you,
Turns out you're just a *****,
and I want everyone to know
Wake up, work, can't sleep, repeat.
Flash back to leaving my bosses house.
Invited for a family dinner,
Discussing my promotion.
This is my life.
Nice house Mr. Boss.
Nice roast beef Mrs. Boss.  
At the end of dinner Mr. Boss explains he can't afford my promotion.
I tell Mr. and Mrs. Boss to go **** themselves.
Only to walk home in Mr. Bosses shoes.
Wake up, fired, can't sleep, repeat.
I look out my window and see
Mr. Boss driving down the street.
My life is gone.
Passing by in the form of a black Honda civic,
With pink writing on the passenger side.
Inside is a red faced man
Throwing shoes at my door.
Some lives just aren't worth waking up for.
At least I have a new pair of shoes.

Once again I'm restless and can't sleep.
The ghosts are back, my dreams they keep.
I tried to pull one from their hands ,
But couldn't grasp the evanescent strands.
Why do you haunt me specter of dreams?
Because we love your stifled screams.
The panic rises in my veins,
They laugh because the fear sustains.
I pull the sheets above my head,
And pray that I can go to bed.
And If I die before I wake-
*Your soul shall be ours to take

Sitting by the fire, you stretch,
And breathe. The air is stiff,
Perfumed with insensitivity.
But to whom does this mysterious perfume belong?
For I am quite certain that it is not mine.
Your eyes stare,
My cheeks flush.
Our mouths show shameful smiles.
Slowly we lay on the ground,
Where the cooler air resides.
There is no overbearing perfume here,
Only the fire, the night,
And time.

Blue-Black lining white on a cold night
Dancing silhouettes in the moonlit snow
Eyes strain to see through the cold
The ground must be their stage
The man moves closer
Beautiful creatures emerge
The dancers of the night
The breathing slows, the dancers pause.
The man watches as dark figures approach
The spectacle is not meant for seeing eyes
The man is cold and calls them closer
He grows tired of his blanket of snow
"I beg of you visions, ease my pain"
The visions sway-
A brilliant dance begins
The man watches and smiles
Filled with the warmth of a rising sun
And yet the breathing stops
The night is still dark
More black than blue
And it is cold
An unforgiving cold

When I was young
I misplaced Trust
Mistook Titles for Worthiness
Which left me helpless

I wandered aimlessly
In search of Nobility.
My soles blackened
My eyes grew tired,
I looked to you for rest,
Instead you took what I refused to give.

My journey continues.
My soul is mending.

My blackened feet grew to steel.
I stand strong.
You will not knock me down again.