He was lost at what he couldn’t see,
seemingly adrift
It was a dream that couldn’t sleep,
something he missed
The time had passed to think anymore,
it was a time to feel
Like women dancing for men,
he which part was real
The third person detachment failed him,
but someone else’s story felt better
He read once that travel was like love,
but he lost the letter
It was only what he could remember,
and what she once asked
What he couldn’t bury below frozen ground,
he hid behind his mask