Lost and Found by Randy Wayne Spire
What is this thing I’ve become?
I march to a beating drum.
Whose hands clench here at my sides?
I reach and control divides.
What path do these worn feet tread?
I move but life’s long since fled.
Whose hate unfurls in my mind?
I blink and glazed eyes rewind.
What world is this I’m within?
I’m torn and bereft of skin.
Whose voice pours forth from my lips?
I call and the daylight slips.
What things issue from the dark?
I scream and thoughts disembark.