Unpublished pieces

Under the impression that life goes on,
the man in shadow speaks of truth.
But what truth?
His own is flustered and vain.
Prone to announcements
only made to his own soul.
He sketches drawings
in a book of paper
that transforms his thoughts
into black and white shapes.
Perhaps his blowing in the wind
is only imagination and ambition?
He'll never realize his dreams,
he is so lost in
his illusionary pocket.
What is the truth?
It is points of view
held by string
and tied
by ulterior motives.
Sometimes the rain begins
and he forgets
to play his umbrella.
Getting wet becomes his
version of serenity.
Under the impression that he is
getting older, he'll put the gun
to his head
and pull
the trigger.

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