If I am not,
then what am I?
what kind of guy?
what man?

Perception,
only takes me to
what man I could be
and what I am not.

I can trot out the old line
that
time gives me no time to be me
but
you can see the excuse,
see me hanging loose,
and well you know,
that it's just a ruse that I use.
I confuse
the answer I
look for, with beer
in the wine store.

What man am I, that I
cannot stay dry?

Dependence,
my star in the
ascendance,
but my future was told,
when
men older than me said,
one day I'd get old,
they were right.

I look now in the somehow and ask
why am I here?
and if I am not
then
what has this man got but
tomorrow, to bury his head in a day
filled with sorrow.
what kind of man is that?