Needless to say,
I have been back there again.
The wishing well of dreams
has made my mind rot.
The consequences of before
seem only too near
and I focus my lust
on nothing but games.
My brother has kept,
my wife told her tales.
I have yet to find
myself the right transport.
I\'m stuck like a child
who has climbed too high;
too fearful to move
because of the pain.
Like a beaten dog
I forget who I am,
with memories stinging
my eyes with no mercy.
And kicking my happiness
away like a stone.
And slicing my feelings
right down to the bone.
And burning my love
until I\'m finally shown
that I hate that my life is not as good as I remember.
But still with my penny I return to create another.