Troubled Souls lost in Insanity

Happiness is a warm gun,
Kept in the palm of my hand.
With fingers gently resting,
On the trigger to my life.
I keep the beat,
With my blistered feet,
And play the game of this and that,
Where I'm someone,
Who knows someone,
Who knows someone that you once knew.
And with the gun powder still on my hand,
I roll up a message with a thought or two,
Carried in a bottle across the ocean blue,
Traveling for miles and miles to you.
A distant memory in the back of your mind,
Like a gun shot ringing in your ear,
Brings truth of a new kind.
A forgotten face,
A familiar place,
And for a moment you think you feel my embrace.
An old familiar scent,
Of perfume and cigarettes,
Drowns you in your realization,
That you did forget.
Everything.
A promise,
A promise of forever and always.