The willows soft cries

Teetering and tottering In the balance of my lies, Wondering what it means When one truly dies. Nevermore will I find my muse, Waning, wandering, seeking the clues— Will I always be a recluse, Lost between the truths I refuse? Found a-spun on the stranger’s web, My mind and body never truly wed. Shadows whisper, the night unfurls— Enough. I’m tired—I’ll go to bed.