Man of the Hour!

The man of the hour.

He's a drunk, never sober.
He's lazy and forgetful.
And he was the man.
Man of the hour.

He fought his battles,
at the closing hours.
He chose to run,
rather than wait inside.
He was the man.
Man of the hour.

He lived his sober life,
In the dreams of his past self.
He hoped he got back there,
To the past self, time.
But he was the man.
Man of the hour.

I am the Man!
And it is my time now.
And I choose to act.
It is my time,
For I am the man for the hour.

Tear up now.

So there we were,
In our little infinity.
Holding on to whatever that was left of us.
As we wished time to stall
and life to go on.

Maybe years later,
I'd come back for this.
This little envelope of time,
in which we shared our love,
warmth and let it go.

I'd stand outside,
looking at us make the same mistakes
Over and over again.
Knowing somewhere deep down,
That there was no right decision there.
Only love. And loss.