Carl Lewis

It runs right next to me, mostly,
The me I see when I’m not ready,
I call it, it, because I don’t know what else to call it,
Because it’s not really me, it’s just what takes over me,

Oh I wish I was faster at times,
Then it catches my mind, and it swirls,
Oh how it spins and then I get caught in, it,
And for a few moments everything fits,

Ah, now it all makes sense, with no sense,
This present gifted from past tense,
Well,
This present, is no present at all,
It’s just another way for me to fall,

The spikes on that familiar cushion,
Made from all those thought up questions,
You’d think by now, they’d impart their lesson,
But somehow,
Alone it’s left me,
My inquiries have come up empty,

Just a few interludes,
Then back to blue, for a long while,
Solitary tears, and maybe a few fake smiles,
But I don’t need your sympathy,
I chose this me,
Unknowingly.

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