It was once that I prided myself on wisdom;
I was righteous in deed and consistency.
My thoughts and my dreams – my asylum,
But my thoughts and dreams betrayed me.
Now I find no comfort in what I know;
For knowledge turned innocent to guilty.
With my mind and my pride, I am left alone;
condemned to contemplation indefinitely.
In my prison, I revisit my beliefs –
Right or wrong? But never happy.
My mind, it is restless, but my will, it is worn,
Like a piece of paper – I fold and refold
Only so many times until it is torn –
A familiar story that's been told and retold.
In a desire for distance, yet a longing for love,
My heart and my soul have been sold and resold.
I quiver at the life I'm reminded of,
That I forgot to live while growing old;
It has left me at the side of the road,
Bitter, indifferent, lifeless, and cold.
