Reincarnation

 

What should I talk about?

I never seen to know.

The stories I tell are funny,

                But the Truth

                They don't really want to know.

 

I live in a world

That is not mine.

I seem to be a stranger here,

                Always ahead

                Or behind time.

 

I think I'm beginning

To know a feeling

That possesses those

Who wish to die.

 

The senses so desperately need filling

Like a sponge gone dry.

A drop of moisture is not enough,

                And there's not a cloud

                In the sky.

 

What is the meaning to this madness

That we refer to as "life"?

Perhaps all mistakes are made

                The first time and all is well

                By coming back twice.

 

 

B. Benjamin                                                                                                         

BBP20