With old patterns faltering
In the wake of time
Serving him less and less
Desperation creeps
Then slowly sets in
Searching for something
Real to cling to
In a world of illusion
And cheap parlor tricks
Of which he created
And has always dwelled
Better to be
An imaginary somebody
Than a real nobody
His platform
His soapbox
His mission
His salvation
The sum
Of all his
Fear
©2013 jill terry
Jillterry.com
Wordsmith Extraordinaire 