I walk along.
My shadow being my only friend,
But when I look at it,
It's so much taller, cooler, more charming
Than my own human self.
People expect of me what they expect of my shadow,
Friends are images that mist in and out.
It's hard to tell whether they haunt me for me or my shadow.
Don't stray from the path.
The path will guide you.
But what if the path that's there isn't mine?
No one ever expects something like that,
So I stumble along,
Not quite fitting into the narrow ground.
Is the grass easier than the path?
Will I be able to fit there?
What are you doing?
The path is better, safer.
For who, though?
Not me, not I who see it now
With all its holes and cracks and false illusions,
But I stumble along anyway,
For who am I to resist the chosen way
To eternal imagery?