I can't seem to paint a picture,
of how things are going to be.
It always seems so dimmed and faded,
discolored and rarely seen.

I figure that no one cares,
and just burn the paper out.
But maybe I won't and finish it,
and be willing to think about...

How I feel,
or how I hurt.
How it shows in me,
or how bad I get burnt.
It's only pain and someday,
the world will give me joy.
But right now I am staying clear,
just like a little boy.

I can't seem to walk the mile,
even in brand new shoes.
I try to arrange the configuration,
but still end up with the blues.

Loneliness is one thing,
I never take for granted.
But right now I think it's getting old,
and my alignment is slightly slanted.

How I look,
or how I see.
How the world slaps me,
lacking tranquility.
Annoying differences,
and the feel of a hand.
Displaying emotion of love,
so far away in some land.