Shaky, unclear, hazy
Memories of what I’ve been.
A little stupid, a little crazy,
The things that I’ve heard and seen.
A small ripple will set them off
Like a bottled up volcano.
But the pain can’t be even reduced by half,
Of the things that I’ve been before.
So as I look at my reflection,
Smiling sadly with her sorrowful eyes,
That girl inside me decides tor run,
Looking for some respite.
Unsure, but confident
That truthfully telling lies,
Will somehow make me not repent
Fleeing from this world of cowardice.