The Broken People

I wish to return

To that very special place

Well

Both of them to be precise

Though I think I know

That deja vu

Isn't especially  all that nice

Memories are never as good

As the lies we choose to  tell

Which we want to believe so much

Though we believe them

All too well

The song that played

On that special day

Filled me with such joy

Is that a lie?

Or is that just my hope?

Slowly slowly

Destroyed

The clothes I wore

Are still pristine

I hang them

On the wall

To preserve the time

Or maybe times

Where I lied

About it all

The photographs

Are in their frames

With faces

Smiling

Blank

I remember the group one

Always nice

Always sweet

But who should I now thank

My imagination

For creating my life

Or my evil mind

Creating delight

I do not wish to remember

What I left behind

For I will then fail my pointless plight

I shall turn away from all the truth

And simply keep the lies

For we

The broken people

Can never look

In your eyes