Today I scared myself with what I am,
I'm never sure i have what makes a man.
I've felt the touch of love and curse of hate,
And try to show the difference every day.
Who am I?
...a vagabond?
...a lazy bones?
...a lie?
And, who are you?
...a man screaming bloody murder without proof.
At present I am best a little stale,
My face once full of life grows dull and pale,
I've always, for dear life, clung on to dreams,
And only now really considered what they mean.
Who am I?
...a know-it-all?
...a cocky prick?
...a lie?
And, who are you?
...a man constant with his bite, and bark, and chew.
What a waste this all has been
I seem to cruise clueslessly never knowing what life means
And every encounter is just like a lullaby,
I'm waiting for a song, or sign to bring me back to life.
Who am I?
...a creep?
...a drunk?
...a simple passer by?
And,who are you?
...a man unable to see wood for trees in view.
Who am I?
...a shoulder crippled by these chips I boast are mine?
Who are you?
...a man constantly antagonising.
...feverishly romanticising.
...simply overanalysing.
...and now without me there to tell what to do.
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