Tall, short, blond, dark,

I want one that’s outta the park.

No salsa moves or disco twirls.

I want one of them suicide girls.

Something bout them girls I see.

Something bout them girls I need.

They have not a single care,

Like how to wear their hair.

Am I thin enough?

Does my voice sound too rough?

I think I’ll have a salad please.

Hearing that, I think I’ll heave.

Damn those girls know how to live.

I got some meat here I’d like to give.

Kinky, sexy, pierced, tattooed and all

Just wishing one would give a call.

Tall order of me on the plate.

Let them haters hate,

Swoosh. In. Out. They’re too late.

No deterrence to the date.

Hell I know we’ll be great.

Wear that black; stripes well earned.

Getting more than one has yearned.

Mirrors, like my left hand and my right.

Just plain symmetry despite what I try.

I am the seconds. I am the forgotten hand.

I am the wind that leaves a fertile ground.

I am the sea that feeds a million mouths.

I am the mundane; that drives me just insane.

Feels hard to hide and even  harder to fight.

The unappreciated, the broken to not mend.

The emotions to which I'm bound.

The apologies and the "get outs"

Will it all be in vain?

To wish it were different.

To dream of what was meant.

To lay upon the memories,

of a time we were all friends.

We can't straighten all the bends,

Burnt bridges to lament.

If only it were easier.

by keeping myself busier,

but when the time arrives,

my strength and all my drives,

just baggage at your door.

How do you say goodbye?

We could’ve had it all,

I heard this in a song.

Here I am against this wall,

Sore head from all that’s wrong.

Choices laid, choices made.

I still remember the day;

The day I chose and strayed,

The day I lost my way.

Regrets of shattered glass,

Hearts scarred and sent astray.

The ice in my soul will pass,

But forever my world is gray.

Nothing can be as it once was.

Chasing pavements day and night,

Future less and less like glass.

Can I ever make it right?

Giving up is not an option.

No running from this fight.

I’m still a man of action.

My heart still has a light.

Of stories to be told,

There’s one of me and you.

The pain of what I hold.

The burn of what I’m due.