This is an extremely old poem of mine. About three years old. But I find it endearing, and wanted to share it.
Hand of Fate
You are not what you seem
I lost my way down on Broadway.
It seems uncanny how often we find ourselves on Memory Lane
And how often we can't find a way out.
What was that?
I couldn't hear you.
Then again, I can't hear at all.
Where I am, no one can hear me, either.
It's strange.
Though I am alone, I am happy.
I am alone...
I am happy...
Now I am confused.
It seems ridiculous how often we find ourselves
Incapacitated.
Inconceivable.
I'm closing in on myself.
What now?
I see your hand.
You want me to take it.
Can I reach?
I strain long and hard.
You're here.
We take the final bow, and lose ourselves together.
