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When I return, it will be under softer lighting and with a lyricless soundtrack murmuring in the background. Metaphorically, of course.
Until then, this says it better than I ever could.
Sometimes I can think to recite
words that I read and rewrite
My pens paint people that I've proven wrong
We move on.
Get a job where I tell
all of my accounts of someone else
I'm quick enough to judge that they were wrong,
that we knew it all along
Sing a long long-winded song
I would be content to hum along.
If I state that my fingers know where to show
what everyone should have known,
I'll let it go
Hopefully you'll forget any words that I put in print
My luck, you'll change
Have strength enough to walk away.