Tired of living, scared of dying,
Catupulted out of acceptabilty
Into no woman's land
I am neither alive
Nor, sadly am I dead,
I roam in the half-way house....
A wateringhole for reflection...maybe
Oh! Sheild me from those mirrors
Those unforgiving mirrors of my mistakes!
Lest I smash myself upon them
Dash myself to pieces in penance
For my unknown crime.
That terrible crime perpetuated
Without conscious knowlege
Maybe in another life?
But one which has stamped my soul
And risen up from unfathomable depths
Begging for recompense.
Why else would I suffer in this way?
Why else would my soul be wrung out
And hung up to dry in the baking, unforgiving sun?
Why else would my plans turn to dust
Or my heart of love be invaded
By death, gloom and decay?
I am tired to my bones..and beyond,
I am beaten down into submission
My swollen eyes no longer see
And my wings of escape are broken...
Like a newborn fledgling fallen
From some lofty perch he no longer knows
An ugly, flightless victim
Of an uglier, uncaring world.
