What can you really find at the end of that path,
Does your shallow speculation, rendered from some painful altercation
Drive you forward into that abyss of self discovery that pulses deep within the soul,
A casual walk down memory lane to find a source to blame,
An ink blot on your pristine white, A scar?
Can you really pluck a feather from your plume free of doubt or consequences
I spent a life inside my head, perpetual existence incarnate,
Not quite sane or insane, but a beautiful state of consciousness.
Where what you seek leads you on with a coy smile,
But always just out of reach,
I'm just a boy who walks everywhere,
I'm just a boy who wants answers,
Or perhaps someone in the world to blame except that damn reflection,
Nightmares shroud the dream-lit sky, as that candle you grasp flutters close to extinction in that chilly remorseful breeze,
There is no singularity, blemish or nor spot to prick,
Ouroboros is all i find in me.