My Name is...


Seen it – own eyes – not a glance,

a present passerby

Blinded till the trice of trance,

main miser comes to lie.


Was so high, now struggle strolls,

aground the injured wings

Fatigue has taken enormous toll,

no hope but still treading.


Fallen hard but not to death

no sanity was found

Stayed submerged now seek a breath

I bear above the bound


Has been so long since gone astray,

ahead a glimpse of hope

So close but yet so far away,

nothing but lifeless lope.


Treading, treading, treading tough

at last, can lay to rest

lids shut, see the shining rough

Salvation! To my nest.


Awake to see the big blue vast

and all but joyous last

tired of the puppet thread –

tired of the puzzled head –

tired of the shutting door –

tired of letters unread –

all I can do is tread.

Perhaps I should tread……


                     ……no more.

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