My Second Person

When August was blowing its farewell kiss,
I came to finally exist,
In the mystic called Life on Earth,
But that was not my one last birth.

For this mind is a Bohemian persuasion of the End,
And it’s blind, to the premonitions of the living dead.
And this cry is for the debris of what is not sacred
I am aroused by the inside, not the plaster of your façade…

Of a boy or girl, in your hollow reflection.
When the calm water rippled, wanted just to see a person.

When the crumbs of flat ground came to seek
Me, was when it reeked,
That I shall remain the last one to stand,
Don’t want to let you become so bland.

So when you asked me who I am again and again,
My mind sought to dig its own solitary grave,
For the fear was deep, my search for myself
Did not want it to end this way, did not want it to face...

A boy, or a girl, in its hollow reflection,
When the calm water rippled, wanted it to see a person.

But I am lost in gaze into my shadowed eyes,
It isn’t a calm water about to be rippled by
Any wind or my breath, or a sigh…
It is flat glass…how or where will I find…
My Bohemian person and its mind?