In the shining eyes of the girl below me
lit by the dim glow of a Paris night
I see the distance growing
that I’ve been running from
for so long
And there, I gasped
lay by her side, and said
“What have I become?
Do I mean anything to you?”
Inhaling on a cigarette
she looked at me, sideways
and said
“You have lost so much
most of which you gave away
drunkenly, or deliberately
Trying to be something else
but to yourself you’ll always stay
a stranger in this wasteland”
And that’s me
a stranger in this wasteland
that’s me…
Thanks for reading.
The Lighthouse 