With My Buddy
All about Me: Me.
There I was, with empty hands
Giving more than I received.
Isn’t that what all real friends do?
I thought you felt the same as me.
So I gave of myself, never counting cost
Being the change I hoped to see
My home, my fire, my songs, my words
I shared them all – and all for free
Was I out of date? Or ahead of my time?
Or a gullible, vulnerable dreamer
To think that kindness returns in kind
And Giving, the greatest redeemer?
If you set out to try and live a good life –
Get used to being betrayed.
The good deeds you do are forgotten in hours
Unlike the mistakes you made.
Because now we live in the Age of the Self
A literal human ‘race’
Where friends throw friends under the bus
If it means they get to save face.
Where denying a charge is just more proof of guilt
With the court of opinion hijacked
Where the squeaky wheel gets all the grease
Accusation is fact.
Scandal is much more fun than truth
When all is said and done
Defence is admission; Facts are a bore
When outrage is so much fun
My faith in human nature destroyed
I sentenced myself to death
And failed to accomplish even that
A stumbling shibboleth
So, those I thought kindred spirits
Turned out to be simply ghouls
Seeking fifteen minutes of feeble fame
Among the shallow, the vapid, the cruel.
Now, here I stand; walking corpse that I am
On the edge of a world so cold
Still scribing my words, my songs, my spells
To defend what is left of my soul
Where hope seems a feeble indulgence
And love for others so hard to maintain
In a world so empty of thought and heart
Is there no other who feels the same?