He beats on the door his lonely, upbeat tempo as he yearns.
Nobody understands or sees or cares to hear.
His thoughts scream out in a silent rush and quietly he learns.
He smiles with no feeling as he weeps with no tear.
Memories explode as a thought imagined-real slowly burns.
Crushed beneath the wheel he acknowledges no fear.

His goal pours out as whispers in a storm, where it whips and dies.
There are no gifts or grand rewards for him to steal.
His sanity drifts as rationality takes wing and flies.
No one speaks the truth and no one offers a deal.
He dreams only the wicked dreams that tease and taunt him with lies.
Long held aspirations are just imagined-real.

Visions flash and disappear with neither freedom nor the truth.
In sweeps determined fury on a gentle breeze.
Another non-beginning precedes another ill-spent youth.
His heart they capture and break and his will they seize.
False faces show themselves as they comfort his soul and they soothe.
With all that's imagined-real his vanity flees.


Lane Diamond (David B. Lane)
September 22, 1989
Count: 15-12-15-12-15-12