TwistedFate

Everyone wants to be the good guy or the hero, although sometimes it might not be right, sometimes its being the one nobody cares about, the one who everyone steps on and uses at work, the one who never has good luck with relationships the one who is always the third wheel, the chaperon, the one who hold's the door open for everyone the one who sometimes feels being alone, is best  seldom does being the good guy actually mean anything he's the guy that sits at the bar all by his lonesome, the broody one, who his friends always complain about but no one approaches because he looks like an outcast the shy one who doesn't know what to say to the girl he likes the one who loses out to the guy with deep pockets, good looks, broad shoulders and a six pack the one who walks away and disappears without a trace the one who gets left behind, because he doesn't play politics he's the honest one and oddly the lonely one, the recluse, whose bes...

smiling, living through darkness and pain finding solace in all the scars and sutures peering through a window at the falling rain and tearing at the very thought of a lonely future dreaming of solitude on the islands hallow shores observing in envy at the happiness in the world the pretender lives, broken and alone with all his woes even in crowds, in his heart the blood incessantly curled but as he moves on through life, the face he wears is strong a tortured soul, once so full of life, just simply fades never intending to do anyone any wrong nursing scars left from serrated edged blades knowing no fear of man, only fears of responsibility moving through life, drowning in memories of yesterday knowing there are others who suffer from life's perpetual complexity from failed attempts to drown sorrows, dull hangovers everyday hoping that one day an end will come to this ill-gotten charade through poetry, comedy, mindless benders and games reminiscing, memories in a mind so brutally ...

Once again he fights to go to sleep, wanting to make things right and earn his keep everyday he battles memories of his past he craves to be free of pain at long last Blood, sweat and tears, spilled like a soldier, with every hour that goes by, he feels the world get colder in his heart of hearts, he knows he's not the only one that suffers one would think all the scars would make him tougher How does one survive a life of broken dreams?, to clear a mind so beaten, internally he screams continuing down that long and lonely road, his shoulders weighed down by a heavy load Once again lying a wake in his bed, wondering if he can make true, the visions in his head, life is a fight, a battle and sometimes a war emotions so pure, so painful, so raw Battered and beaten, he keeps getting back to his feet, knowing he has to stand up, even in the face of defeat onward he plods and pushes through the demons both near and far and his memories will haunt him forever, lik...

Sitting at his desk with his notebook and pen, scribbling down words that rhyme now and then his purpose for writing it was never personal gain but is a means of expressing his infinite pain Some rhymes are good and some are bad, some don't rhyme at all, some rhymes are sad, from his heart filled with emotions so raw and the memories of things he felt and saw A battle hardened warrior, bloodied and all alone sitting in solitude now with his rhymes and tones his friends and family, though they're all surround he lives his life in rhyme, like nobody's around He carries on his back, a weight very heavy, his shoulders are soaked by the tears of many over the years he learned to hold back his own because his were tears that should be shed alone His words are an open window in to his heart, and his life as a writer, with poetry did start but when those words refuse come out right he keeps writing, he doesn't quit without a fight Bad choices and decis...

There's an old saying that reads like this, "and then there was one" when you're all that' left there'a always a twist, a lone warrior, who respects all and fears none, You can fight for what you believe in, a cause that you believe is great, a cause for happiness, a reason to grin, one can assume happiness is worth the wait, Now it's his turn to stand alone, like a cowboy with his six gun, walking in the wind, he fights's to win, to regain his throne, to put down his critics and all those fiends, Feeling like a stranger in a strange land, battling silently, this game of life has a tendency to twist, to go out in a blaze of glory, he waits patiently, shooting first and questioning later, with the flick of the wrist, the last outlaw, with a chip on his shoulder, the last man standing will finally decent, a true old school soldier, one day, his sins, he will repent haunted by his past, his heart in a cast, he walks alone, he bears no branding, in his min...