Almost Famous, Nearly Lost

Am I to go save from gazes,
On a witless road full of mazes?
Or to the eyes; will I meet,
With an advance, without a retreat.
Shall I go forth with my head held high,
Away from the trenches, into the sky?
And with my eyes shut, I am filled with dread.
As I don’t know how far I tread.

Shall I avert my the other troubles, dangers?
(It’s not my concern; it’s in the hands of strangers) .
Could I better myself, by erasing my faults?
Or should I just forget and pretend to enjoy malts?
From which I’ll receive from the good old boys,
Who keep themselves happy with all the latest toys.

Is it my future to sit on the street with a cup?
While civilians toss me polite coppers,
Not daring to look up.
As if I was a rat, dead or diseased
My presence being elsewhere would leave them all pleased.
So I wouldn’t e on their conscience, (out of sight out of mind) .
But I’ll bet it would be their distress to find.
That if they raised their heads, instead of bowed like a mourner
They’d see there is one like me on every street corner.
A lost and ill minded fellow,
A tragedy in itself, a modern day Othello.

To fear for my future, is to regret my past
While my old friends pass me forward, I would remain behind in last.
Afraid of what will happen, afraid of what’ll see.
Scared that I won’t cope with whatever happens to me.
Ought I to go ahead with my eyes and mind half closed,
To start a gap from reason, to not leave myself exposed.
But with half moon eyes, I still have presence to see
That whatever comes my way will eventually set me free.

by Sam Price

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