My life is a ghost town.
Hope long since packed its bags and deserted,
leaving behind the weight of potential unrealized.
I sit in a saloon filled with why’s
slowly losing my grip on the lies,
succumbing to verity
in all its severity
while ghosts of relationships have me caught,
demanding me to be all the things that I’m not.
The well of emotion is dry,
as cold and empty as I;
these regrets replaced by wondering
what the hell has been happening
in this place I thought would be my life
but turned out to be just trouble and strife.