Boulevard of Broken Dreams

It makes me wonder,
if the creases on my hands,
really tells a tale?
or are these just scars,
scars that ruins my fate.

It makes me wonder,
when I lie on the pillow,
gazing at my palms,
if these really decide the future,
with the past left so bleak.

It makes me wonder,
when I cross the lane,
if anybody would come to know,
the whereabouts of mine,
when I’m rundown by some drunken swine.

It makes me wonder,
if beats of this heart,
would ever sound like a symphony,
to other soul,
a soul truly worth living for.

It makes me wonder,
if this is all a sham,
and everything done leaves no meaning,
and if all this is a boulevard,
a boulevard of broken dreams.