Barefoot Runner of the Human Race
Slowly my thoughts surround me like twirling smoke,
my lips turn numb as I begin to choke,
eyes cast down in a sultry gaze,
trying to find my way through this brumous haze.
''twas this day that had me blind,
turmoil of the nous quite redefined,
trying to stay afloat in this insipid life,
all I get is knottiness that give me strife.
Passing strangers begin to stare,
seeing an influx of misery standing there,
whispers seem to follow me around,
faceless voices that make no sound.
Solitary island stagnant in the sun,
the pistol fired, forgot to run,
ashen grey creeping o'er the face,
bare foot runner of the human race.
Words descent like falling snow,
shapes simulate the depth of my woe,
all around I perceive more or less,
abstractions of masses happiness.
Degrees of separation fragmented humanity,
plays upon the individual and his sanity,
eyes that search neglect to discover,
a troglodyte of spirit seeking a lover.
Hands that stretch across the pail,
resounding fears let out the wail,
a heart un-sculptured always waiting,
tired or ridicule e'er hating.
Cries of despair stumbles a lisp,
pass through your life like 'willow the wisp',
eyes averted just don't care,
invisible to most standing there.
Peels of laughter cut me quick,
seeing others contented makes me sick,
the only time that I feel joy,
when others happiness makes me sigh.
A life fulfilled would give me pride,
be in the 'limelight' but trying to hide,
obscurity dwells like an unforeseeable friend,
the last utterance of hope to the end.
© 2011 Mark