Chaotic Order

Call me what you want
I am not thinking I am
something I am not I am
just a sketch of a man.

Nothing falls under me
to decide anything at all.
Not for now anyway for
I have not heard my call.

None do I turn to for any
warmth my bed is cold.
At end complexity mine
will be a story not told.

I don’t want sorrow now
nor ever as I try aspire
to be me for all to see I’m
just a mirage who tires.

The vision I have is gone
and I find I am at war
with what I want I don’t
even know who friends are.

What can I give but a
glance into the view I see?
And when I look back
I see a history of misery.

Find me here I am now.
The sun is spun I’m found
trying to make noise from
my ink somehow resound.

Carry me a tune and I’ll
try to give you a rhyme.
Because pleasant it is to me
after the rancor of daytime.

I love while I can I guess
I don’t know the world like
so many do who see me now;
many love beyond spite.

Then there are those who
I know know no peace.
I know the ways the same;
barely do I sometimes sleep.

At uncertainty I run away
for the dark unknown world
turns not for me I know not
answers I am in a ball curled.

Yet the light gives hope Lord
give me strength I’m a man.
I need some kind of order to
maintain in this godless land.

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