i seem not to get enough of me;
looking through that crafted wide pane,
i doubt,is that me on that reflective plain?
As i thumb through the pages of my wasted years,
the pages from ancient years,no one has seen
for nobody has ever looked!
As i glance at the times,
the times i had to weave a spell from a wordbeat,
but from the times nobody has listened
so nobody has ever heard!
my pain cries out in rage;
I wipe off from my heart tears of broken dreams
dreams trodden like an insect under a heavy foot
anyway, a dream is nothing but flashbacks of too much of a day's thought
For years i have been searching for myself...
to where did your trails lead me?
to where did this road take me?
to where did this path deliver me?