Thoughts strain between
reality and memories.
A smoking gun
for those who relate.
Fate,
as if it were my sister,
has stolen the mirror.
Now, I only see my ghosts
floating in the past.
No wisdom in the air,
no lessons learned,
only the sadness
and the pain.
I survive with a little whistle
and a two step around
the difference between
what is real
and what I feel.
