Inside The Madness

I sit behind the wheel, but never turn the key,
My hands upon the wheel, with nowhere left to flee.
I stare beyond the glass, but all I really see
Are questions in my mind about the person I should be.

What makes a person good when no one else can tell?
Is it the things they do, or thoughts they hide so well?
Is it the guilt they feel when they know they've done some wrong,
Or does regret just show how far they've gone along?

If knowing that you're wrong means you're trying to be better,
Or does it only prove you've crossed that line together?
Can someone still be good after all the things they've done,
Or does the person they became outshine the one they were?

So I sit behind the wheel, beneath the fading sky,
With questions in my head that never tell me why.
The engine stays asleep, the road remains unknown,
And I wonder if a broken man can still make his way home.