Boulevard of Broken Dreams.

I walk alone.
I walk alone.

These streets are filled with people, scribbled in every space.
Yet,  that doesn't matter. No matter what I try to do, no one can hear my vibrant voice.
I see a BROKEN TYPEWRITER with nothing but a sentence written.

I walk alone.
I walk alone.

Broken buildings, washed out streets, ruined cars are what I see.
I see a jar of unspoken words.
Billboards plastered with dancing people, because dancing with you is a broken dream.

I walk alone.

I see a broken stethoscope,
a rusty needle,
a split scalpel.
A shattered heart.
I see a couple holding hands.

I walk...

Being a good kid comes with a cheap price.
I feel gossip drip out of young people's lips like poison.
I walk into a deserted Jazz lounge.
I see a broken, dusty piano.  

Keys on the floor, crushed.

I walk outside, I can't see those lovely stars.

A raindrop splashes my face; cold as the Arctic Ocean.

I  s e e  a n  a b a n d o n e d  w e d d i n g  a l t e r with wilted, white roses and thorns intertwined. 

Thorns jostle my heart and dreams. 

I walk alone.