Surrounded by phantoms,
some nefariously kind,
others sympathetically mean,
Recurrences of what I have already seen,
my life is full of these,
I can't understand what they're purpose is,
Will this ever be his?
Unsureness of happiness,
like a danging carrot of paradise,
this is not the actual idem, but the love,
a forever lost, pure dove,
They tell me I should do this,
and expect me to do that,
They don't understand my want of freedom,
does the secret lie in an ancient tome?
Going now to a place
where more phantoms lie,
they see me as foreign and unwonted,
should all of this have been prevented?
Like an exhibit enclosed in the glass of youth,
the wise phantoms think they can see,
I just wish for my future to unfold,
a story that is still untold,
Am I cared for or just agknowlegded,
as a pupil and nothing more,
another stick in the road of Life,
containing the usual amount of strife,
Mystery, magic, they interlock,
all I want is some amount of faith and beauty,
but what people want they don't always receive,
I guess all I can do is believe...
....for how long shall I believe?
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