The Road Trip

A shadow of a man slips, one day
Into the seat of his new, black car
He doesn't know to where he’ll go
But he knows that it is far.

A shell of a man, what's left of life
Of hopes, of dreams, of ideas
A man who, though he existed
Was never really here

He starts the engine and cast a look
At the life he leaves behind
The light of home seems so long ago
False hope has left him blind.

With a sigh and breath, he pulls away
And steers into the street
Passing faces, places, and memories
Of those he once would greet

The dying sun behind him
The dead of night ahead
No longer hopes of sleeping
He drives alone instead

His mind can't help but wander
To love, to life, old friends
But when it mattered most to him
None were with him at the end.

They all deserved much more than him
His children, most of all
He thought he had it figured out
But pride’s before the fall

A history of failure
That’s what his grave will say
That's if they ever look for him
And find this car one day

He couldn’t be that smiling face
When life came round to test
He thought he was strong; he thought he could cope
Now he drives away to rest

He has fallen past the sadness
Through despair, and shame, and fear
His withered heart is simply numb
Scared by those who were once here

Those who look would see him drive alone
Though this is hardly true
The ghosts of those who he once loved
Haunt him each night through

“I am sorry,” he whispers to himself
Through a rasping, dried out throat
“I'm sorry that I failed you.”
Prayed to those he loved the most

“I’m sorry that I could be
The man to warm your soul.
To brighten days and ease harsh nights
Who’s heart that you’d love whole”

His children, friends, and family
Will do better when he's gone
And he can’t find a single voice
That tells him he is wrong

An abject failure, a true lost cause
Unloveable, a ghost
The last on the list of priorities
Of the ones he loved the most

Bad choices, bad luck, bad timing
A life that never felt his
Being dragged through his own existence
Fighting the demons who lurked within

He trusted where he shouldn’t have
He loved without reply
It's more a relief than a burden
That he’s chosen, now, to die

He curses those who hurt him purposely
And those who didn't care
He shakes his head at his own mistakes
Knowing no better choice was there

But it doesn't matter anymore
As his road trip journeys on
He wonders if there is even one
Who will notice that he’s gone

He breathes a sigh of welcomed sight
As the clifftop greets his eye
He smiles his last and whispers loud
“To this cruel world, goodbye.”