I will always remember,
to persuade myself to forget,
something of random regret,
for ancient images still linger.
Distilled from dreams of days,
When I was silent and younger,
creeping dearly to be a stranger,
Thinking I decided novel ways,
Images those meddle duly in vain,
To bring me back my innocence,
My fancies and sighs of indolence.
But what passed, brings more pain.
When perception tends to be late,
Manipulated by unclouded choice,
with a sound taken for a voice.
Far drifted, I loaf on paths to fate.
Thus feeble, I float on a logic flood,
Lost among places like paradise,
With acrid tales of open blind eyes,
Reciting words those swiftly scud.