The Stranger

A poem of realisation.

What is the reasoning in wanting to
Dream, build, create, desire and make
When all that you want to achieve or do
Is to lay down, to never again wake?

Thought is wasted on that which I
Will never have. Sleepy dreaming
Causes nothing but pain and one to cry.
To me, I am the servant, and he king.

Foolish am I, to desire such.
When he does not want to be caught.
I am just a stranger trying to clutch;
A stranger with his eye distraught.