Who ?
That old reflection in my uncracked mirror, can’t even blame bad luck,
Those dirty fists banging in silence in your head,
The man in the yellow hat watching your every step
Those old shadows murmuring in the background,
Those unspoken words that were so needed but never showed up,
Those clues sent to those who were clueless.
What ?
Under the pouring rain, glasses were being poured,
As the clouds weeped, I weeped with them,
My fingernails became dirty,
My skin no longer innocent,
My body going through turbulence,
My heart taking a beating.
But somehow through it all, my mind stays blank.
Where ?
Under those cold snowflakes
On my highway of thoughts passing in front of all those exit signs at full speed,
In my cocoon of little stones and flower petals,
In those 2 second moments where you see across the train passing by.
Why ?
Some natural explanations, the nature of my persona,
Those moths attracted to the flame that got stuck, that disintegrated and became one,
Because of a guilty pleasure that isn’t so guilty,
To belong to something so unknown to you, to understand what can never be understood.
How ?
Don’t go to that comforting pool of self pity, your fingers are wrinkled enough.
