Listening to voices
I know aren't my own,
wandering in deserts
of my making,
tired and alone,
living in the moment
and tired to the bone
for each moment
slips away
all too soon...
Need to catch up,
need to trap some air,
here where the air is thin
I begin to see
what is usually hidden
from you and me...
Am I in touch with Reality,
or is that something
permanently lost to me
for they say Artists rarely see
the World as is really is...
My words are my hopes,
my words are my Dreams,
my words are all that is left of me
at times to me that's how it seems,
for what would you see otherwise
and how can I disguise myself
so you may understand
I'm not trying to explain,
I'm trying to understand...
Jan. 14, 2015 6:50 to 6:54
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