Fine print signatures hardly exist when
little white lines guide your mind
Trusted friends,  kin,
I believed when they said I'd win
Surely this won't take me
I claim invincibility
Laugh louder outside
Inside I am screaming
Save me
I am imploding
She is empty what happened to us
What happened to me
I am in disbelief
I chose this ending

Two roads,
Both of suffering,
A travel of torment,
An alcoholic buffering,
A mental health descent.

Two roads,
Both amnesiac,
Disasters once foretold,
A twisted aphrodisiac,
A trauma to remold.

Two roads,
And no yellow wood,
The lines are blurred and gray,
And no choice is ever good,
With the forces at play.

Two roads,
And a traveler,
With sanity at stake,
The wrong choice could unravel her,
A choice she's yet to make.

What If?
Brian never thought he would work in a call centre
When he lived in Germany he was unemployed
And while looking for a job he was forced to go
Work in a call centre and refused creating a fuss
I’m not selling insurance or loft insulation!
Put me on fork lift truck training it’s my job
Not some **** call centre 2 towns away

The stupid ***** running the training place
Offered to buy Brian a bicycle and he laughed!
You silly ******* cow retrain me on fork lifts
I need to renew my outdated licence
Not work taking calls like a fool robot
Half a decade passed and Brian
Ate his words working in a call centre!

You always wanted to be treated like a queen, like a princess.
Be in a kingdom of love, faith, hope, care, respect, and honesty.
Acting as if your life was filled with fairytales, filled with possibilities.
Drowning with the thoughts of battling with once upon a time and happy ending.

You once painted him as your knight in shinning armor.
Described him as your light in a place that's filled with darkness.
You wrote everything perfectly, but on what reason? What purpose?
Were you just overwhelmed by fulfilling the thought of being with him?

Two different paths to take, one choice to make.
One choice to make.
One path to take.
And without hesitation you choose him, over and over again.

Little by little you started to wonder,
What was really the purpose of doing this? Of being with the knight that shined light?
Was the light made everything clear? Or did it just blinded you?
Still you've got no answer, you're lost in your imaginations.

Your knight in shinning armor? Did he really saved you?
Your light in the darkness? Did you really see everything?
The path you took? Was it really the right path?
You should be saying yes, but why are you gloating?

Didn't you want this? Didn't you prayed for this?
Didn't you waited for this? Didn't you work hard for this?
The story you created for how many years just to make your life magical,
Yet you're stuck in your own fairytale that has no spark anymore.

as the rest move in a herd in time, fixed and onward
some remain at a pace of their own
slower,
wallowing in crevices, an act of conscious apartheid
familiar with the shortage of influence, that is, separation.
wandering by will
vicariously living through a phobia of confusion
hence why lost souls remain lost
fear of false direction, fear of decision
uncertainty amongst hysteria
a deadly duo for the few
settlement has become still
and those lost are familiar with movement
2 steps forward, 12 steps scattered
here and there and it's unclear
up and down
its all around the dance to delusion goes to no sound
but illusion.
distress within the body whose mind follows curiosity
incessant pondering yields a detriment
to the thinker,
be about
your quest and breed your farewell to the
blissful life of ignorance
that now follows you
-
is there a solace to be found for these creatures?
has the point of no return passed?
the distance behind is immeasurable
for the path previously paved is dimly lit
to decipher the single instance is a feat of all men
does the lone wolf recall?

only two dancers
remain standing
shuffling
   and swaying
under syncopated lights
held by
an unspoken law
an apparently unavoidable
trait of human nature
that forces them
to continue despite
such terrible choices
of song
and persistence
each was merely
a "friend
   of the bride"
moving in different circles
prior to this
their dancefloor meeting
unfortunately
neither can now
abandon the other
to dance alone
to risk being seen
as the cause
for bringing this
near-sacred ritual
to an end
these residual bodies
left with no choice
but to mirror
each movement
match every sidestep
echo every clap
with rhythm
   or without
it will not matter
so long as this
transient solidarity
of misplaced confidence
and forced smiles
continues into
the next song