Tuesday, September 9, 2014

The Hobgoblin of Ancestry

Strained out of a loss of judgment
into a world claiming all it creates
shadows rising on the rim unbent
passion tracing nature, loves and hates.

Those without eyes said go on
those without minds agreed
those without mouths dreamed
of screaming while inking the screed.

Why have you come but to bear a name,
knowing no one knows why you came,
lost in the patterns of flame and repair,
only looking back seeing the mirror stare.

Who and how are you meant to please
why does this thought give such unease,
where does your place reside that never was?
And so hide from it always, just because.






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