The Scribbles of a Lost Soul.

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How far would one wander away from home?
Half of me safe, the other lost to the world,
Perhaps there’s no want to be found,
Am I, perhaps, fortunate this way?

In the solitude of confinement,
Silence is the loudest of rooms to be,
Camouflaging thoughts and fleeting glimpses,
Of who you actually are, the lies you set free.

I bear the burden that time revealed,
Lost in the maze, I need to contemplate,
Whether I go across or sit there till
My dried bones bleed.

I need a story line to rely on,
Something uneventful and ordinary,
Be kind O’ storyteller, narrate it to me,
Until the time of the ultimate slumber.

May be in another life you’ll be my friend,
In another life where good things won’t end,
Where I’ll confess to the secrets, surrender,
And may be I’ll find simple faith again.

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