In the internal recovery
externals discover me,
uncover and hover about me,
like angels,
but why would that bother me?

I hear wings that flutter about me,
thought it
could be my heart
but it can't be.

In my mending I am fending off demons.
The angels defend me against those that would send me
screaming back to the pit.

There are bits of me lost,
friends tossed aside and my
memories sometimes
hide far away.

I am spread out quite thin,
I think thin
gets me in and
I am poor, so I'm sure
that helps me a lot.

What did I get from this lifetime as yet,
not understood?
Some bad
some good
If I could remember
I would.

No moral to this tale where morals always failed me and my dreams of dreams derailed me,
when the pious tried to bail me
I said,
'let me go to jail' and
Jail is where I am,
the jail that jails a man
inside himself.