Angel wings

Acceptance of solitude is a bitter pill to swallow,
no matter what you do every day feels hollow.

Facial expression in a frozen constant frown,
finding new meanings to the term broken down.

Friday nights spent putting pen to paper,
toiling away each day truly feels like labour.

New job, new car and never needing anything,
yet still it feels empty when you are always missing.

A true leader that people walk behind,
would they alter their opinion if they could see inside?

Spent most of my life cutting all ties to my roots,
starting to believe when they say I’m damaged goods.

Pictures of naked women in my bed spark memories,
but I never cheated or told any lies.

Using women for comfort grows old sooner or later,
I grow sad when most people only see the player.

I never do it for fun I just want to feel affection,
although you might see it as deception.

Feeling awkward for me to step into the light,
the sinner in me belongs to the night.

One thing is for sure, no matter how much paint,
tattooed angel wings, does not make you a saint.