etracing my steps in hopes to find
some part of me that may be somewhere left behind
there’s a fear, there’s a point, there is a problem
what if what I find won’t solve any of them
and I wonder why I have no motivation
I guess I just answered my own question
I’m not the golden boy so don’t shine me on
I’m the bastard son of romantic babylon
with veins that are all fashioned out of copper
a past design not destined to be concurred
but like anything there is a flaw inscripted deep
that may explain everything