I wish I had introspective eyes.
Analyze anything and everything.
But I am a phony of sorts.
I am as hollow as the trunk of a fallen tree.
I am a tree with no Roots; a lie with no truths.
I am a sheep in disguise drifting with a populous flock.
I’d be the wolf but God knows my teeth are
rotten and shattered and my fur is wet and cold;
a disguise to clearly see through.
Hollowed, I still remain weighed down by the decades.
I am not getting any younger,
only progressively less creative and picky.
The future is unclear and irrelevant.
My words may not be enough to help you.
And I sincerely wish they were.
I would compliment you after every word if I could,
if it was possible it would save you.
I would save you.

Robert Sannicandro
2013

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