A Tale of Two Faces

I wake up to an ordinary dry Sun, garish

on a dead sky.

All exaggerated rendition of its glory faded

as the clouds swing by.

It’s a tale of a prudish mind, a broken soul,

unleashed and untamed.

I garner the bits of the synthetic yellow light

waiting to be framed.

I roam and roam as the pipe dreams capture me

within.

The old faces scoot away, the blinding actuality

saunters in.

Everyone knows me to the blood, to the bone,

they think.

I grin and take a peep at the old, chipped mirror.

I wink.

I envy the Sun for it can hide whenever –

a sojourn as granted as its fierce presence, unfailing.

I don’t long for love wherever –

The ground shakes beneath the throne I sit on, unwilling.

Only the Sun, the diamond and the stray dog know

solitude.

I know it’s not a story of brightest stars, nor of great

fortitude.

People count me with the stars, lying to their deluded

mind.

People pin me to the ground, strangling the once pure heart

so kind.

I wait for the waves to alter, steadfast, on my feet,

unbound.

I sob, I despair, I hurt inside and then, I come back

around.