Vanity

[tactheantidog]

My pride was the least funny joke to my name
Though it fixed smiles on those frigid faces
The party writhed on
In the clutches of the dawn
As my mind slipped to desolate places

My friends explained why life must be a game
If that's so, then we'd already lost
So my friendships were fed
To the fire in my head;
I left the starlets star-crossed

Oh, the sun still burns
And the ocean still yearns
To rise to its lunar love
As with passion, with pain
These secrets remain
Bound to the depths I dream of

So I lied to myself, slippery-slick,
Until I deemed my beauty innate
I spoke to the sea
Like it was family
As if my abhorrence could tempests create

My vanity kindled by the sun's kindred lick,
My shadow I thought to be strewn
Above humanity
In my affair with the sea
As if I thought that I was the moon!

But the sun still burns
And the ocean still yearns
Upward to its lunar love
When I awake from my sleep
May I be half as deep
As the beauteous depths I dream of

Tides tug on all men, and most men cede
To the will of its pull, good or ill
Thus most rise
In small ways, as it tries
And tries to meet its lover still

As I watch time, time watches me bleed
Into the flow, must I yet be the same?
May my true strength decide
My path yet; my pride
Is the least funny joke to my name