Who Are You?

Oh, such is understanding word,

That all you read seems quite absurd.

I get the point for I have pointed,

But, say, my elbow was disjointed?

And what I pointed to was broken

Must I then speak in words true spoken?

Or does a heart ken all it sees

And bows on genuflected knees?

No, truth is quite transparent when

The washer wipes and so reckons

That all they see inside the room is not

All fear and doom and gloom.

But, measured with some point of faith,

Relays the truth and sees the wraith

That succours to a heaven sent

And knows that life is all but spent.

And then,

A future seems so much to clear,

Enamoured, fill their hearts with cheer.

But, truth be told,

There is no heart in those I here now do depart

From, endless war that is so waged.

Engaged I find and, too enraged.

This bastard life that spat

Confusion

Knows not family delusion.

A happy child, a carefree name.

Identity inside the frame

Of subterfuge and grand design

This heart is broken. ‘Tis not mine.

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