A ghostlike image of someone
Nobody seems to know
Reflections of a hidden gun
Waiting patiently
To pull apart for fun. A whirlwind fighter
Who opens wounds
In the fabric of reality
Not afraid of you, outsider,
I’m over here
Despite all your brutality. Moving reflection
Robbed of alll the memories
Coming across
With no sense of direction
No choice
But to treat us all as accessories. There’s a place for you here, too,
Under the pitch black sun
Intoxicating smoke
Towards the sun is blown
Waiting patiently
To pull apart for fun.
