Stripped of the camouflage,
Lost, completely out of place, naked
the chameleon in me, attempts one last song,
Knowing sing I never can.
Perhaps at best, imitate music,
Like a deaf man, attempting a beat he never heard.
The storm clouds gather,
I know my count down of seconds has begun.
I have hidden all my life,
Under the different settings that offered me shelter.
Always seeking, imagining, building a thing of beauty.
Not knowing, it was never mine to build,
Never mine to seek,
Never mine to even imagine.
An impostor - not even a good one,
Was all I was.
Maybe, I was but a blind man, attempting,
Not to describe an elephant, but to actually build it.
In my own terms, I thought,
Not knowing, that lofty ideal is something,
A latent God complex, something else.
God, of just my own delusions.
I lie down, accepting defeat,
the delusions of joy,
delusions of normalcy even wiped away
Not even numb,
Not worthless enough to be made an example of,
Just plain empty.
Forgotten, not even worth forgiveness,
for a moth cannot dent a bullet proof window.
Bitten by the hand of delusion I fed
Broken by the desire i harbored,
I just have the ideas that were
those that will never be.
I clutch them, feeding them my soul,
Whatever is left, as it slips away.