The Second Act

Excalibur glimmers in the sun with no fierce dragon to slay.

The lion of my youth has turned into a tiger of paper mache.

Aspirations keep me alive, but a flatline is the verdict for today.

I have played all of my cards so you can go fish without a fillet.

My body is cold inside, so I can not sleep without a thick duvet.

Mentors tell me to grab the bull by the horns when I rather say olé

Smile as I may, a soft voice that tells me the sadness is here to stay.

I tried to count my blessings, but that exercise just puts me to sleep.

They say you should rely on friends, but I call that counting on sheep.

Don't patronize me, all my words are vacuous, none of them are deep.

My ankle is in a cast, and all the faith in the world is pointless without a leap.

Mood swings are not something new to me, so I tend not to mutter a peep.

Modern society is like compact parking, so you might have to butter a jeep.

I need a respectful distance, that is why I constantly practice a well timed teep.

These days I have become the picture of a walking narcoleptic.

My emptiness is not sensible so it making me a bit apoplectic.

Stay away from my blood work, your shock will go from surprised to septic.

The world is burning with no end in sight, and I am oddly not effected.

Don't pamphlet me about your God unless he is the one who resurrected.

Doctors ran a scan of my head, and there was no trace of peace detected.

Try to talk the dead, but if I answer back, you are not in any wise protected.

I have I become the voice of a generation without the red tape of being elected.

My time is limited in this existence, and when I breath my last, I will be perfected.