I wander as a ghost through lamp-lit streets,
Subdued with rain and mist and fog.
The heaviness weighs on my beliefs,
From happy houses a cast-out dog.
I drag behind me sad thoughts lingering
Like a wastrel's baggage he must carry.
Accusing eyes my collars fingering,
Whereaver I go, or stay, or tarry.
This is no land for me, this cannot be.
A dusty shell of once I was
In streets of shame my wandering.
I played in them in my youth,
But wander now as a recluse.
It costs me bitterly to remember them,
As things are now with what was then.
They look the same in my mind's eye,
The friends I knew in this worn town
Still stand by church and chimney
Like steadfast islands defying change,
But only ghosts possess them now,
My only friends when I am down.
The brightest and the best have fled,
And left me dying as I bled.
Others I knew are now dead.
Even then my days were blighted,
Predetermined, forever nighted.
Forgive my sadness, my excuse
Is that I tried to cut too loose
From the rut I was born in,
But only tightened more the screw,
Ploughed deep the rut I'm now in.
I wish I knew.
You're at the bottom!