I wonder sometimes if it be just me

or am I being inclusive to all

when certain energy can drive me free

of angst, of despair, of the fear to fall.

We operate as mechanical drones

moving about, suggesting how we roll

we could conspicuous be simple clones

and then they might say we’re boring whole.

Yet when you whistle such distant demise

I find I want to run to somewhere safe

to settle in with tutelage so wise:

be accepting of the life of a waif.

For are we the same frail fearful human

Afraid, mirrors, shadows, the boogyman