Don’t ask me who I am,

tomorrow he’ll be gone.

It seems too easy to find

fault in every motive of

my life, who I am, and why.

Only takes a quick minute,

to lose faith in my why.

I’ll compare myself to you,

and crucify the me.

If one time I was allowed

a visit inside the crystal ball,

would it be there my final days

I could trust my indifference,

or just saddle more reason

to ride out some distant fantasy.

Of if it were the passing wind,

would that I could ride the wave.