He’s lost in a play the inconsistency of his life.
It seems like he can’t get away and is in the center of hate and strife.
The tears he cries are icy cold but the act he’s doing is getting old.
He tries to hurt others and bring them down. No one wants to befriend him instead they beat to the ground.
He blames us for the catastrophic ruins his life has come to, though he knows what we’ve been through.
His act is coming to an end, his time is limited before scene is called and the curtains are pulled by the golden thread.
He should quit the over played act and stick to one certain trend.
He’s lost in the play, he’s losing himself to misery. He wants to own something other than uncertainty.
No matter how many times we try to help him, he pushes us aside. He is more involved in his own self pride.
If anything vanity is his game. He makes everyone around him go insane.
Sanity is the farthest thing from us now. We’ve got to pull ourselves together somehow.
We’re being played with like puppets on strings. When he irritates us we cry or scream.
He adds to our distress and dismay.
This unloved child of chaotic hate doesn’t see all he has to appreciate.
He’s lost in the play, his feelings being over taken by envy.
There is more damage done then the eye can see.
When he walks upon the stage the audience becomes quiet. Yet the only thing he has to offer is a verbal riot.
They say he will never find himself or his personality. The only reason he’s here is to cause melancholy.
Caught between he, caught between she. He doesn’t know which he should be.
He’s a rose trampled to the ground. A lost soul waiting to be found.
His innocence has been shattered. His fragile body had been battered.
In the system or out, he’s always been filled with dread and doubt.
He’s seen so many things that weren’t right. Maybe everything will change tonight.