somewhere along the lines of shooting for the moon I forgot who I was and what I stood for.
ambitions of false glory and worth really amount to little in the grand scheme of things;
for these things only retain the value that we as society place upon them.
So maybe I'm not the man I can claim I once was; maybe that person I currently am is a mere shadow compared to the former.
The White Horse I once claimed to be was actually the opposite.
Nothing but an old taurus car with a beat in hood.
WE all are in need in of repair, but at what time do you drop the car off at the lot and give it the final goodbye.
Cinderblock walls with trace evidence of home display that, like hands going down a chalkboard, the waters will soon settle after the storm has passed.
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