THE SELF ETCH

 

Shallow wells

Hollow swells

Ringing alarm bells

Hard hitting pelts

Loose belts

Hard facts

In this veld, I make a pact

Alone inside that red cape

Alone I must now partake

Investigate my parkade of confusion

Weigh my bags of illusions

My packets of emulsion

For in this life I have lost vision

And derailed from my mission

And I stand now wishing

Hoping,

Asking

Wishing,

Asking

Pending,

Why are things always vanishing?

My hopes and dreams unripening?