Poemander

A letter to nowhere,

A script with no name

I stare in emptiness,

Its all but the same.

I don't know whose fault it is,

I don't even care,

But heart fills with heaviness

And drowns in despair.

I tried to repair this

With patchwork precarious,

Amending scenarios, cryout from abyss,

But all turned deficient, all went amiss, amiss, amiss.

A letter to nowhere,

A forlorn attempt in unregistered post,

I might have been somebody,

But hopelessly lost in nowhere, nobody,

I'm just a ghost, a ghost, a ghost.

From that which was left of me,

Wrote words with no name

Aimed to no addressee in nowhere land.

A far cry from agony, just vast open maime.

I'm not even part of this, a cut off, a strand, a strand, a strand.

A crowd, they thought otherwise,

They hung, hanging up by the thread.

Cannibalizing on matters of trivial,

Demanding profusely circus and bread.

And who'd tantalise a thing immaterial?

Long disappeared, already bled.

But no, most unforgivable

Is manumission and the regret.

And who can escape this intricate net? This onerous mission, collective delusion, deception and fret?

It's inextricable, from the onset,

But what would you do with this freedom anyway? Forget, forget, forget.