telling lies.

Let me be frank.
I can’t remember the last time,
the last time I didn’t have any words to say.
let me turn around,
hindsight 20/20,
and count each and every single star.
how is it even possible
that my mind can be running
so much faster than myself,
and I still can’t make sense of anything?
it’s all slipping away from me,
yet, at the same time,
I have the tightest of grips on the world.

I didn’t ask to play the spy,
and you, the bad guy.
I fell onto my finds,
and looking back,
hindsight 20/20,
I would much rather have not found it.
even in perfection, there are flaws.
even the lions have their claws.

I’m sick with confusion,
filled to the brim with doubt.
I’m not sure where to turn,
I guess I’ll make my way out.

I wish that I could let this go,
just as easily as you made
that turnaround when you
realized I knew something
I wasn’t supposed to know.

Nancy drew should have told me
that solving secrets isn’t nearly
as fun as she managed to make it seem.

When did a lie,
smaller than a grain of sand
or larger than life,
become an acceptable attribute?
I guess 100 angels can dance
on that single grain of sand,
and life is always what you make it.
I guess it would be just so easy
to forget it all;
if only my head were made of paper,
and my ears were made to erase.
if only Gabriel were a satyr,
and I never made it to any base.

Gabriel, where do I go?
can’t you just fly me home?

It’s a chosen against a stranger,
and you can only imagine.
nancy drew never prepared me for this.
I want to be frank,
and I want to learn all the right
things to say to you now.

My head is swimming,
my heart is racing.

Let me be frank.
even the lions have their claws.

We are not the same.