Renaissance Man

Perspectives are entirely selective, picking and choosing, sometimes winning sometimes losing, walking away with a heart that's bruising from the damaged path I've been cruising. Have I lost or have I won, I don't know but, it was only my son that the damage was done, wish I had got off this ride cause it was never fun and looking back I just feel dumb, right before I start feeling numb, I can only scream and cannot run. I don't know when it occurred that these lines had been blurred and truth so obscured these things so absurd, leaving me unsure with a picture unclear that caused these fears, scars that last for years and inspires these tears that streak my face falling at an ever faster pace as if my broken heart was the finish of this race, I feel disgraced bringing my hands to my face, I just want to leave this dark place post haste. Fuck the blame, the stories always the same so go back the way you came and I'll cut this infection from by brain, another chapter ending boring and lame but, at least that bitch gets her 15 minutes of fame as she walks out those doors in shame, I have already forgotten her name, Here is where I take my stand, Roger fucking Hidle, the Renaissance Man.