The Glory Daze

"The best is yet to come," they said, but I know it's just a phrase.

The Glory Daze

What if darkness fell outside,
And all the lights turned on
In our masquerading home
With all its curtains drawn?
Our silent screams of disappointment
Are bleeding into dawn,
Indistinguishable from the chaos
Of the ventriloquist’s swan  song

What if my thoughts drowned
In the reflecting pool of my head,
Because they never learned to swim
Just float on hopes instead?
All your unfinished questions
Rest with the answers you left unsaid
In that dictionary brain of yours,
You’ve kept devotedly unread.

The lights are flickering in a rhythm
As our faith in reality fades,
And we’re struck by an intangibility
Of our glory daze.
“The best is yet to come” they said,
But I know it’s just a phrase.
Because the best is waiting patiently
At the end of this eternal maze.