My mind is my own

But it’s thought are foreign

Their nature is a conquest of deception

Forcing perception to be an abstract idea and a tangled question

Sanity is now an opinion within itself

 [no one in their right mind can understand it, and no one out of it can claim it.]

Truth no longer means

And anything is just a dream

Absence is more concrete

For it clears my mind ...

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In the darkness it was a shadow

Highlighted by the edges of the rising sun

Where in-between it began to gleam

As the son stuck its fingers through the seams

With her eyes on

The horizon

Watching

The dusk of the night

Meeting

The don of the day

And with its light

It ended twilight

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