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[I.] |
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Beneath a distant sky |
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of a city deprived of day or night, |
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I try to find a reason for the rhymes |
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that echo in my mind |
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and speak to me of times |
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when we could get by with skinning our knees. |
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Whispered out reminders that cloud my memories |
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identify the line that divides |
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the horizon from the tide. |
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As my eyes begin to open |
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I am pulled inside and I am frightened. |
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Will I slip into the sea of life |
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before I realize that I have never been me? |
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Who am I? Is this life really even mine? |
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Only time will grant the wisdom I require |
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to know you as myself and be rid of your presence forever. |
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[II.] |
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Filling the void with stolen spoils of the unknown |
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to all but the ones most important. |
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I and all my kind will die as lies. |
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Birthed of a body born of the old earth and, |
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older now than ever, I know that I am empty. |
