These nights, they are the worst
Sitting limply on the couch, like a ball, deflated from years of pass, back and forth back and forth.
The t.v. screen blaring towards my blank stare
Projecting lives we all wish were our own
Projecting smiles that could only be faked
These night, they are the worst
Too much time to think
Too much time with myself
I lie on my bed, wondering
Where will it all go?
Where am I headed?
When will I arrive?
What exactly do I seem to be yearning for?
So eager to achieve?
Is this what I want or am I living the life so many others have drawn out for me?
Lying pretending to be happy but a sinister tug in the very corner of my soul reminds me it's all a game; play it right, by the rules, stay within the box of thought
Don't venture, outside the lined area
Stay on the paved road, you will go far
But oh dare to wander off this path into no mans land
One wonders
These night, they are the worst