There once was a boy who wanted to be free
neither life nor love could lead his games astray.
But when he chose to join deception’s world
he left without a trace to much dismay.
Through empty endless days and frantic nights
he tamed his fears and tempted tragedy.
He lived his dreams but from them could not wake
so drifting with shut eyes he failed to see.
Once long ago his spirit had been torn
before he had learned to mend a tear with thread.
Instead he sewed his spirit shut with lies
and weary from the strain made death his bed.
There is no way he’ll learn from what he did,
but those remaining bear his gift of loss.
His absence is a cave of countless memories
in which we might seek shelter from the cause.
He said, I shadow myself through these
times of uncertainty
I am my own reflection.
My voice is an echo of
Who I once was, he said,
And no one will ever find me.
And nobody ever found me.
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