My back is turned to this world,
And here alone I stand,
Like a pebble on a mountain top,
Or on a beach,
One grain of sand.
In this world of ghosts I’m stuck,
Between what I was and who I am,
Lost in the maze that I designed,
Bursting to become more.
I have seen this land before,
Though I’m lost in new terrain,
And while the sun scorches my anatomy,
I do not pray for rain.
So faceless among the empty headed,
I search for golden signs,
I look for those around me,
But find only whispers staring back.
A scratching at my soul reveals,
Something lost that I have missed,
And the throbbing in my hand suggests,
That the item is in my fists.
Alone here where I stand,
I’ve decided I want out,
But no person, God or Deity will hear me,
No matter how loud I shout.
So I will force myself upstream,
Through this thickening grey fog,
And shut my eyes to the world I am in,
Towards the one I know I’ve seen.
© Copyright 2016 EwanMac. All rights reserved.
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