Will you look me in the eye? Will you see the real me?
As the winter's closing in my pace adjusts against the wind,
racing toward the setting sun, my past I can't outrun.
It's hard to watch you live in love. If only you knew my loss, could learn of loss.
I once found pleasure in the smell of fire, broke bread with old friends who'd always inspire,
sat long, sipped long, and contemplated desire, but I've made my bed.
I chased my demons into the darkness only to find a home in hell.
Will you look me in the eye? Will you call me by name? Will you see the me I used to be?
Youth is wasted on the young. If only I could go back to that moment and hold my tongue.
Catch the butterfly long enough to breath its beauty then crush its wings. Then perhaps you wouldn't have to feel anything.
Just a smile and a nod without pity's encroach.
Please feel nothing, for I am not of this world, I am this world.