Back in the day I thought I was a young Al Pacino, Like Scar Face I’m the king.
I never could have gone a few rounds with Rocky, Unlike Sylvester I never entered the Ring.
I should have lived the “Good Fellas” life; I think I missed my chance.
The many women who came and went always seemed to cherish the brief romance.
Like De Niro in Casino I should have been boss of the entire operation.
As it stand now fate was not in my corner with everlasting cooperation.
There were several forks in the road and maybe more than once I took a wrong turn.
All the many lights that adorn the path behind me were from the bridges that I had burn.
I find myself past my prime like a fighter hung out to dry.
As he loses the most important bout of his life and is left alone in his corner to sigh.
There must be more to life, my dreams and visions show a very different path.
Unfortunately for me the equation is not working for I have always been bad with the math.
The rope is short and beginning to unfurl and I continuously find myself at the end.
I wake to a bright new morn but by days end the same fate is around the bend.
Where is the confidence that embroiled my younger more stellar inner being?
Is it lost or on hiatus, or with age does one find their self-confidence fleeing?
I say every night that tomorrow is the day; I will start my brand new life.
While I write this in the dark confines of my room I doubt that a flip of the daily calendar will actually end my strife.