Wondrous Illusions

Wondrous Illusions

Wondrous illusions...
	visions of me,
but when I look in the mirror,
	visions are all that I see.
The lies of appearance,
	the falsehoods of sight,
the ways I portray
	what's supposed to be right.
The truth never-ending,
	the truth never-known,
is buried beneath
	these lies that I've sown.
To one, I'm a person
	that's gentle and sweet.
To another, I'm nothing,
	a place for their feet.
To some, I'm a genius
	to others, I'm not.
To myself, I'm a person
	whom I've completely forgot.
The thing deep inside me,
	the blackened dark soul
has slipped further away,
	beyond my control.
I know not true love,
	I know only grey,
I know not compassion,
	nor the light of day.
The moon is my lover,
	for none else can come close
to the person I am,
	a spiritual ghost.
I look all around me,
	see the people, the life,
and the fact that they live
	cuts like a knife.

The emotion that's left
	inside these walls that I've got
is consumed by the envy
	that they have what I've not.
And the fact that they long
	for this greyness within,
has become to me, 
	the greatest of sins.
Because, look at ME,
	not the vision--the lies,
just look and see
	my dark, empty eyes.
No life, no love,
	no hope, there's no dreams.
Just a dark empty vessel,
	adrift on life's streams.
Matters not where I'm going--
	matters not where I've been,
matters not where I'm at
	nor where this stream ends.
For, although there's a vessel,
	with gadgets galore--
that vessel is worthless,
	when no one's aboard.