Strangers

One night, I sat, and felt as though

I had been twisted inside out—

My heart had been plucked,

And punctured—it had been

Horded and misplaced,

And I pondered upon serendipity,

As I chuckled coyly.

I wondered of the strangers

Who walk with uncertain struts—

Faltering gazes lead to bashful ruts,

Shoulders brush and heads become

Carefree—filled with needless luck.

I learned a lesson, of nothingness—

To remain blank is surely best.

And bitterly I began to pace,

Back and forth as I failed to reminisce

The exact reason of my heart’s escape—

The reasoning behind my chase,

The inner voice, leading me astray.

Humbled in the way of the fool,

I remain, a forcefully empty page.

     DannYetman

www.DanielYetman.com