I wandered the land of Nod
in the nights of darker dreams,
My hands smeared with bitter sod
robed in tattered threadbare seams.
Shades of reddish colours,
Caress my weary dreary frame,
Mine eyes are mere shadows of empty dollars,
I'm lost in lands where all should know my name.
I am drowning in the eyes of faceless faces,
sleeping in the doorways of empty homes,
trying to remember the names of places
written in ancient tomes.
Hieroglyphs point my direction,
If only I had taken the time for it to learn,
Maybe upon my resurrection,
I'll have finally made it back to a place I call home with all due concern.
I wonder, sometimes when I'm clearer of mind,
If home is what it used to be,
and returning, if I tread the streets I'll find,
what new horrors my eyes might see.
Will the town have crumbled
Like my mind?
Or will the new foundations have me humbled
From the changes that are evident with time?
Can I bear to watch the familiar faces, twisted with age,
Pressing against the window panes, when the train moves so fast,
Like so many rodents held in a tiny cage?
Squeaking with sorrowful voices of the past.
Can I handle seeing you once more?
Walking down the street with her in your arms?
When in another life it was me you used to adore.
Or would the bitter taste of regret begin to swarm?
And why should I just accept with silent assent,
and quiet compassion,
the way you tossed me aside when I was spent,
in the days of your cooled passion?
Nay, I can never go home, I'm lost but I'm me.
I'm stuck in depravity but here, me your not haunting.
I survived your onslaught, but didn't make it away Scot-free.
In this fantasy land your voice is still daunting.
But the darkness is now, forever, sleeping,
so your words can hurt me no more,
and our tragic story they will be keeping,
of a wanderer in ancient lore.