Nostalgia

In this evening, I wear the perfect smile, and, you’ll quake, in the wake of my guile Cause I’m the best liar you’ll ever meet, Because, In a way, I swear, I’d mean it Not, to say that I believe it, but The intention’s there all the same This is my confession, my admission of guilt. Because, it’s upon good intentions, that the road to hell is built I’m always working toward my goals, and my dreams But, in self observation, I'm beginning to question my means As of late, been having a lot of trouble, maintaining the tension in the telegraph lines And for that reason, the deserving will have no honorable mention For these wires that run from ear to ear have been in disrepair, for the best part of the last year And, this is my apology, as well as, a desperate plea Because, in reality, I’m in need, of someone that can save me, Someone to be the monkey on my back And one who possesses all that I lack Someone who could, with words deify the drying of paint And, since patience is a virtue, my girl will have to be a saint Someone who bear with me, when I beg her to stay and then push her away Endearingly Awkward, is all I want to be The martyr, with out the fee But, the apprehension in me, doth decree My title has the need for a higher degree of precision, and simplicity And, In fear’s wake, I’m brought to my knees And, despite my hearts desperate plea, I comply, and then cease to be, Until, love breathes her life into me I feel poison coursing through my logic And capitulation that could be considered tragic I’m growing weary, of this battle, In which my ambitions are roped like cattle, And slaughtered, just to end up filling the bowls and plates Of, fear, my sworn enemy, the one I’ll never cease to hate Considered jaded by some, and boring to most I feel the part of the silhouette, or the ghost But, in all honesty I am, in a word, broken. I don’t know, I cant even begin To tell the difference between ecstasy and agony, Or know what to say, when asked about my identity. in the evening, behind this perfect smile, at my fork in the road, contemplating left, or right, and carrying a hell of a load, . I put faith in a coin toss, Not knowing which led to love, and which to loss, caught in clenched fist, And slapped down on bare wrist, for an instant, i wonder if this Is reprobation? Or some road, leading to my vindication?