to say I am lost would be to imply that, at one point, I was present.
My presence was ignored from the time I crawled the floors,
feelings inside transformed into sores
boring onto my soul scars.
My father, my guide, idolised in mind.
when eyes open and you find monsters, sponsors of crime
doing time for a dime?

I am lost
rather never found, no guide by my side,
going with the tide, building walls, to keep the feelings back,
that torment my mind.
The forges of feelings foundries  have gone cold, Shut away  
barricaded
with un-shaken walls.
So I wander, in search of myself,
I wonder
if I’ll be found or
if I’m bound for a battery of uncertainatity: