PW (10/01/1970 / Webster, New Hampshire)

Friends (1993)

There are those of you who know,
and those of you who wonder.
Trust me!
For I know not what I do.

Attached are you to my soul
by the thickest of silken threads.
Was it an electrical storm,
or the death of two lovers,
which spawned in us
at the moment of our births?

Do you want to visit the past?
Trust me little girl,
let me protect your innocense.
The past is dead,
now witness the future.

Your worship is ill-placed,
when you envy my freedom.
I am just a slave to whim
and what freedom I have
has exacted a price.

Are you a god,
trying to save my soul?
Or the devil,
trying to quicken my death,
with your concepts of preconceived life?

I am just a seeker of truth,
hiding in a realm of frozen lakes.
Afraid to face the future,
scared of the past,
but longing to break free.
In a way the new ones may be right.
Maybe I am a little crazy.
But then again,
who was ever normal?

by Patrick Wescott

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