On my own,

Here I go on the road roaming in and out the wilderness of my mind.

There I see none but the loneliness of my life;

knowing only the ones I want,

but knowing the feeling of those whom they say,

I can utterly know how they have played theirs and mine.

Where they needed me and wanted me stay,

I passively do,

I actively not say,

where I was not to,

almost did entertain what notion

once upon a moment a memory.

In a blurred second vision thought,

I knew reality was not my fantasy,

then I dreamt of you into me.