By pwoodard@home.com
Date: 4 January 1999

Unbeing

That which I am
the one you see
was never really meant to be
so take this tapestry we've spun
and see to it each strand's undone
begin with all those threads of pain
the ones that drove me quite insane
the twines of sorrow mingle there
so may as well remove with care
then pluck away those threads of joy
for they were just a foolish toy
each hateful strand must disappear
I always held them much too dear
the cords of anger stretched throughout
dismantle them without a doubt
the twisted ego threads we placed
are to be found where speech is laced
extract the strings of happiness
that made of my life such a mess
the fear that permeates my clothe
exterminate, as though my moth
unravel me onto that time
when all these woven threads weren't mine
return me to that empty place
where of me, I find not a trace