PRISONER OF TIME 1 © 2007

I make no sense,

I am a scattered, lost fragment,

As soon as I align, I will be

A misfortune, a burden to bear.

I prefer to be the chaos, the nameless mystery,

The crooked line that time consumes,

For in the absence of logic, I find peace,

In the disarray of life, is where truth is revealed.

I seek neither coherence nor defined form,

In my essence, I am lived uncertainty,

And if one day I make sense,

I will be the misfortune, the end of my cry.

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