In the confusions which pass through the glass of my eyes and where the smoke puts a choke hold on me
I wrestle with my identity and if it fits me or not.
An Illusion which goes by the name I am known but never shown to the people at large, there’s a hope I’ll inherit a spot of humility and become the man that I knew I once was, but when the doors are all shut on me and that humility deserted me for the fresh fields which lay over the way, I pay no heed to the need that lays in me and confusion just leads me astray.
When I look at the stars far away and wonder what is it that makes me this way and the lights start to blink but I think that they’re winking at me
I see the souls in the sky which fade out and then die, I see the fall of it all and in the seeing believe I know why.
© 2015, John Smallshaw.