The Lost and Weary

Devoid of all emotion;
I march on.


Empty shell I have become;
So to the fire I come.


Have I been a monster?
A thing with legs like a spider?


Have I been a puritan;
Comitting no sin unlike any man?


Or was I simply a broken soul?
Who has never come near to its goal?


Woe to me; woe to my comrades.
For we are all fallen lads.


I am lost; and could never come back.
I am alive; yet I am shelved in a rack.


Art thou listening, beautiful stranger?
Is my salvation in your location there?