Next To Nothing

Fatality
Very definition of these faces
Someone said are supposed to represent me;
Just whose dream am I in anyways?

The murk of their travesties sloshes beneath me
Finds it's way into the microscopic cracks in my soul
Tainting what minuscule hope I had in man;
His ability to manipulate God's elements
Only to have to beg his mercy in repentance.
Which god was it again that created me?

I have a lot of questions.
Too many questions in fact
Embedded in my prayers
Repeated each time I see their faces
Wondering why can't I choose to move on...
Beyond 1976 possibly?

At least that what she said.
And of course there was truth there
Just as much as here
Just as much as there was lies
And carefully placed innuendo;
You, as it is with others, think me the fool.

Fatality.
Fatalistic my strides
As I maneuver between who I am and what I am not
Hoping to attain a casual enough gait
Avoiding suspicion and the ever-present reprimand
Of being made the example of the architect's power...
I think it's about time for a personal uprising.

I am that which is everything as much as it is nothing;
That faint wonder witnessed just when there's a perfect culmination
Of shadow and thought;
That which dissipates only to return.
Universal.
Unanswerable.
©2014clarencecbess