Am I really who I used to be?
I am who I want to be?
Songs of yesteryear playing in my head
A merry-go-round of familiar faces reminding me
Reminding me of the paths I did not take; the roads I did not pave
Each turn I reach out for the comfort of another heart
One that wrote me the letter that sits in a box
Those words still ring true today for another
Love is a splendid demon filled with fire and rage; subtlety and pleasure
Like a bed of roses, it teases me with its fragrance and cuts me with its thorns
The blood is dry now, no longer flowing through my veins bursting in scarlet red
I sense you
Holding on to me, holding on to you
It is a sensation I have not felt since we walked the beach alone, tickled by the stars
The waves reminding us of second chances, always returning to the big blue sea
Am I really who I want to be?
The answer is in these tired eyes
A warrior without armor, vulnerable and exposed
A fighter with no hands, void of the power to retaliate
Spited without being wronged
I look behind at my shadow
An outline of who a used to be
I look ahead to a blank sheet waiting to be written
Am I really who I want to be?
This is a question for the wise men resting on the mountain tops
For now, I take comfort in the undiscovered self
I see the surrender in my lover’s eyes
Walk with me toward that warmth
There I was, a boy of no more than seven walking through that corridor to that wings vessel and seeing an outstretched hand holding the wings I’d been waiting for all week long. There it was the symbol of Eastern airlines with gold wings spread ear to ear.
