and makes complete sense
and in my exhausted tired and beaten down
old crazy state of mind
all I can think of is to say
but what if one doesnt want companions
and I like the inclusion of twisted wonderful ride
called life
twisted ride

i call life the tilt a whirl
was at the food bank and I cannot
really relate to the others although
today i fit right in...
visually I look broken..
hell who am I kidding I looked like
this forever...
the only one I could relate too
was the girl working the comp in
the station...on her right arm
underneath was just the inkling
of her ink....something beautiful
i try to be polite....an old trick
like a mad dog sitting up
works for some...

better then what I really want
to do half the time..
idle hands...so I try to keep
busy...
presence
but the dark will drag you down
thus the dog eat dog
the masks
the beast one must maintain
anyway on her arm was the
beauty of something dark
and intricate and great...
but of art...you are real or
you are not...

the eye contact with her and finaly
with the plain mother and her frail
mild teen girl spoke too me in the
line up....one we speak and realize
we are not the usual throng of
survivors in the dodge and grab
line and way it used to be but still
is....they were great

I have many masks...many faces
this old game of it...
but you are right...when I am all
exhausted and tired they come
forward more...
the "shyness" will make companions
truer then family sometimes..

great poem

thank U!