The Witching Hours

My perfect nightmare, just as i always dreamed,
A flawless creation, the saboteur's masterpiece,
Complete victory, complete devastation,
I destroyed a good man, a good friend, utterly.
Such a beautiful betrayal, the worst possible thing,
And in handiwork I've destroyed myself, my life,
Just as i always wanted, as I've always desired, needed.
But why? Why did i do this, how am i become this monster?
Why did this happen?
Impossible to comprehend.
Lingering in the park, as day slurs to night,
Spending some quality time with the crows,
And my swam of flies that follows me everywhere, drawn to my stench,
The stench of weakness, of festered desire, the stench of a villain.
Who is this man in the mirror?
I am desperate to know, desperate to understand.
So i take to the streets at night, alone,
Searching for some relief, for meaning,
Did she really love me?
Her secret to keep.
I talk to the schizophrenic, banter with the junky,
Listen to the homeless man's ramblings,
Brilliant gibberish laced with wisdom,
My fellow lost souls stumbling the streets in darkness.
And the only truth that we come to, our only common ground,
Is that everyone is fucked up, we're all damaged, flawed,
We're all soft monsters, somewhere buried inside,
Only some of us realize it more than others,
Some of us have met our monster, beholden the beast within,
And those who have, take to the streets at night,
Searching for their meaning, their relief,
Desperate for the answers to others' secrets,
Desperate to understand the choices they've made,
A sea of wanderers grasping at something out of reach,
Something hidden in the night.
Drifting through cigarette smoke and neon glow,
Through shattered glass and coffee stains,
All leaving drops of blood in our wake, some ours, some others',
A trail of tears and broken promises, imploded dreams,
Filthy, wretched and defeated, stinking of regret, shame.
Some victims, others villains, all suffering the same,
A silent and restless army, marching to some unknown place,
Haunted by the ghosts of our memories,
That cling to the flesh like shadow, one step behind.
All wishing they could go back and change what happened,
Make right their mistakes, fix the damage done,
But we can't.
You can't go home again, the door is locked and the key cast away.
Time heals all they say, but can it wipe away the taint?
Can time wash clean the sin?
It's the only affective medicine, and i fear the dosage is too low. 
I don't know the answers, Don't know what to believe.
My only choice is to keep breathing, keep searching,
And maybe, in some unexpeted corner, in some dark alley,
I'll find what I'm looking for, I'll find my sunny place. I'll finally understand.
So i dawn my uniform, join the rank and file,
And take to the streets at night, like all the others.