Pretending
From inside these closed doors.
I sail away from these old shores.
And walk on down those streets of gold.
Pretending I’m still young and not too old.
But when tomorrow takes away today.
It leaves you finding it hard to stray.
With air too still to fill your lungs.
And no backup band to get the song sung.
And if someone would see your thoughts.
They’d surly in the twisted wires get caught.
At least that’s how it’s been in past tense.
Misconstrued, it just doesn’t make any sense.
Am I so removed that my opinion’s disproved?
Lost in the void of an unrealistic existence approved.
Looking back into a past review’d.
Longing for a chance to make things renewed.
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