If like a paper back novel my life could be read.
With every turn of the pages, I would be losing again.
You see the curse I was living under, brought nothing but defeat.
Like a desperate, dying villain that was the life of me.
Then Chapter two the story changed another writer penned down his name.
He saw in me what no one did, took what was dying and made it live.
It's hard to believe everything you read, but the proof is
In what you see in chapter two.
Going nowhere in the fast lane, seemed like a road with no end.
I cursed at the sunset, hoped it would never rise again.
Every sense of emotion had vanished in me it seemed.
With the candle, burning at both ends it was a matter of time for me.