Playwrights of Babylon
I'm calm, composed, and nonchalant
In debt to my desire
I sell my soul to design passion--
To find that it fled from me
I play for my heart--
With an elderly, unkempt chess board
With fading colors and missing pieces--
Ambiguity has blended them as I sleep
Adopted by Reason, I ran from Home--
To sleep, nevermore, in my own skin
Disfigured, the hours melt away--
My rib-cage houses their wayward ghosts
I am controlled or coerced--
Anxiety crippled my heart's playwrights
Cutting off my vexing hands--
Bound in a stock, headed for Babylon...
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