TwistedFate

There she is, a picture of perfection in your eyes so radiant and elegant with a smile so bright and pure There she moves, with each step she gets further away independent of all around her, so graceful her perfect eyes shimmering in the light There she sits, sipping on her drink, mingling sharing a giggle at joke glancing at her a glowing phone There she stands, her body moving gracefully to the music gyrating almost sensually until once again she takes her seat There she was, leaving you speechless with every move her black hair moving too and fro smiling as she catches your gaze for a moment There she goes the object of your hearts desire with a hug and a kiss that echo in your heart she leaves, waving good bye

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...

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...