A Stranger to Myself (a poem)

I am a stranger to myself
My face in the mirror is not recognizable
Shadows peering from the corner
Cover my countenance

Alienation, deep and bitter
An outsider to the process of life
On the summer-soaked beach of eternity
Split off from my subconscious

Ghostwalker, the sun is a fickle mistress
And the Egyptians were right to fear
The ultimate power of the Sun God
Who takes no prisoners

I exist, simply, and do not ask questions anymore
Why would I? When the answers are no longer
To the satisfaction of my masters?

Wandering aimlessly, this beach is filled
With rotting corpses and lost souls
All told, they amount to nothing
And we go through the motions

(Photo by Roman Skrypnyk on Unsplash)

5 responses to “A Stranger to Myself (a poem)”

  1. We all keep going through the motions. Some more clueless than the others. What is the ultimate goal? Is it to lose or find ourselves even more?
    Beautiful and thought-provoking. 🙂

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: