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