I walk aimless, but alert, down moon washed streets
In the twilight, I strain to tell patron from vagrant
A coalescing of something at once ageless, but fading
Like the stone of this courthouse; pillars of justice
Cracked quietly by the steady chiseling of time
On forgotten foundations

In the air rests a stench of contempt, or neglect
Like an oil stain, thickening turquoise waves
To a sickening ooze, of endless, crashing degradation
A nation of people, betrothed to suitors unknown
The power of a dollar hedged against the weight of your soul
Where pockets are plump, and virtue is sold

If I can still express all the feelings
I'm experiencing through words,
it's a sign that I'm still alive.

Laying in bed today, listening to tunes
          As I so often do
A feeling encroached, one I could not shake
          Or attempt to lose
The sound of sadness, through the microphone
          Blew the dust from my aging bones
Sunlight diffused, into the tomb
          Of my desolate room
Shadows scattered, from their thrones
          To reveal four walls of stone
Flowers dressed, this cold gray place
          Where I woke from rest
Bare and unburdened, my blemished fleshed took its first steps
          Bent but not broken, rebirthed, awoken

Tomorrow
I'm going to try again
Tomorrow
I will thrive
Even if today
It feels like
I'm the world's most broken,
Miserable man
I shall once more feel alive

Tomorrow
I will take the road
I have never taken before
And paint the world gold
And be afraid no more

Tomorrow
My dreams will come true
Tomorrow
I will rise and shine
Tomorrow
There will be no you
And the world will be mine

Not all people who wander are lost.
Not all people who fear are afraid.
Not all people who love are loyal.
Not all people who smile are happy.
Not all people who breath are breathing.
Not all people who shine are bright.
Not all people who cry are sad.
Not all people who live are alive.
Not all people who die are dead.
Not all people.