I see an old man who does not speak.
I wonder what vampire stole his voice.
Is his breath next?
I bet he was a poet once.
Who is to tell, not he nor I.
I see a young lady with the mind of a child.
I have no idea if she is cursed or blessed.
I have nothing but charity for her.
I see a soulless one who has no grace.
What can I think of him; save only God knows.
Then borrowed deep like a dung Beatle I see me.
Bound down yanking phantasmal chains.
As lost as lost as we are.
We have one thing in common.
We wonder how it happend.