I see an old man who does not speak.

I wonder what vampire stole his voice.

Is his breath next?

I bet he was a poet once.

Who is to tell, not he nor I. 

I see a young lady with the mind of a child.

I have no idea if she is cursed or blessed.

I have nothing but charity for her.

I see a soulless one who has no grace.

What can I think of him; save only God knows.

Then borrowed deep  like a dung Beatle I see me.

Bound down yanking phantasmal chains.

As lost as lost as we are.

We have one thing in common.

We wonder how it happend.