Man of Many People.

 

 

In morning I feel like my dreams

Were a series of battle's

A multitude of character's

Magnified desires of control.

 

My skull is precariously packed

With people I do not know

From places I have not heard before.

They do not progress me.

 

Sometime's my mouth opens

And unfamiliar voices rise

From a throat that differs in thought.

It is positively terrifying.

 

Conflicting views fuck my opinion

With grave situations

Each politic has a go

Ideology can be a whore

At the best of times.

 

It is worst of all as the moon escapes

Into the bliss of obscurity

And finality seems a worthy cause

To fight for right now

If it means they will leave.

 

I am not myself.

 

I am my past and future.

 

Time is my witness

Every night I fall asleep

A stranger.