I thought I'd be the remedy, the peaceful person, the go between.

The lapse conscious to put minds at ease, but instead I'm riding the rioting.

The push, the exclamation burst through stolid calm, the masturbatory stirring of heated palms,

on cold beer bottles as the night lights burned..

The conversations strung in a litany, telling rumor to concealed truth causing random epiphany.

Swallow your tongue, I try not let this get to me, but the walls of these strangers are about hit me.

Why so close to the line of fire, 

did you the purpose or should I retire

the walls are getting  closer and I'd still admire that impossible candid portrait of a group of a group of friends smiling.

The anxiety and the insecurity, when you know so many secrets and you hold them confidently.

The vault never cracked and that's what interest me.

That I shut my mouth, but others can't do that for me.

I thought these problems would cease around the first decade from infancy, but it still goes on indefinitely.

The good guy or so i think, goes down in some farce that's looks like a tragedy.

Bending head over heels to help who's in need, but thankless tasks leave in shambles - defeat.