my own reverie

Somewhere far above my troubled head,
in hesitant skies;
flies a lone bird strung up by hidden threads.

The puppetmaster's game has yet to unfold;
dancing to someone else's song,
I tell stories that shouldn't be told.

Dreading daylight in all its frightful light,
I shield my tired eyes;
At least here in the gentle starlight, I may find some respite.

The velvet night does not judge me,
but the cruel sun and its followers will;
so I wait patiently, until dusk's arrival sets me free.

Brooding and listless I walk in a daze,
stumbling amongst puppets all day long;
In my own mirror, all I see is a stranger's face.

Silence, my truest friend still,
shows me the illusion that is life:
tells me how man is a slave to his own will.

somewhere between sleep and dreams I lie,
I must remind myself of who I was,
before I forget that lie.