Brighter Images

The weakest centre of my mind Wearing a mask, but what to hide? Angels descending on my truth I related to demons to kill my youth Although this child forgot his soul His search for a reason had granted hope He now tries to cast aside those spells The rivers of poison that could not quell This patient crying to be free The nurse gives him drugs to make him sleep The more he wakes the less he knows Shaking off feelings that won’t let go Half-thought collectives and reprise The universe is, but what is time? These rooms appear to be the same Except for the faces beneath the child’s frame I wake to throw away that mask Nursing my fears is not my task Not weakness when I can still see The stories that justify a brighter me