"Do you know what it is you seek?"
"I don't sir, I'm afraid.
The concrete slabs of parted pathways,
Spilled garbage in dark lanes
Strike me somehow as I dream and
I'm stabbed with plastic forks.
The mirror tells a different story,
The make-up brush quick strokes"
"Do you know what you were sent here for?"
"Apologies Sir, I don't.
I knew it at another time,
I'd look into a stranger's eye
And find a kindred spirit,
Piece by piece be drawn within it.
I tell myself a different story now,
That I must make not seek meaning."
"Do you feel your decisions thus far have led to your situation?'
"Although I sometimes ponder that, it strikes me as a combination
Of decisions made and a path laid by fate,
I'm playing the hand that's dealt me."
"We're all playing that same game, child.
What matters is how freely."