The shell was left behind.
So was the flesh.
All that I have now is my crude self.
But when I look around,
all I see are shells and flesh.
Truth is nowhere to be found.
One is always alone
in this place they call home.

Truth be told the choice was made
by one more aware.
Truth be told it chose to be
not me.
Truth be told it gives life to me.
But it chose for me.
To be here.

When I come they see reflections.
They smile and pay attention.
For I am what they know lies inside.
Then they go back to their busy lives.
Nobody takes the time to find
out. Who's the bread and
who's the wine.