error: try again (23/3/25)

there is no margin for error;
I didn’t ask
to come into this world
and I won’t be asked
when it’s time to leave,
then you ask me
what do I believe,
when there’s not enough
space in my head
nor enough words
in my mouth
to give you the answer
you might like to hear;
“you are what you wear”,
will that do?
the outward expression
of an inward impression,
for better or worse,
perhaps I’m cursed,
or would that presume
a belief
of something before
and something to come,
subjecting truth
to a lie
while keeping ones fingers
crossed
hoping some random
eye in the sky
doesn’t clock me for what
I am and am not
with my arse hanging out,
it’s a fine line between
the cynic
and the devout,
between the certain
and doubt,
hang up a sign
up on the door,
“back in five”;
but from when?
dead air
doldrums
moribund
cold sun,
so little space to manoeuvre,
this monologue’s
gone on too long
but it’s all I have left,
how far have I fallen
from this tree?
I’ll tell you what,
you tell me.

© 2025 robert greig