A blank sheet of paper staring back at me,
The words but seem shackled to my heart.
A wide open road calling me ahead,
My feet but seem glued to where they are.
There is hope and faith waiting across the street,
The barbwires of fear but seem to hold me.
I paint a smile and put on my dancing shoes,
The showers of tears but seem to expose the gash on my face.
I cover myself with the cloak of prayer,
The winds of hurt but seem to penetrate my soul.
So I play the role of a vagabond,
Conceal my scars with the colours of laughter,
Waiting for someone that can see beyond the exterior,
The eyes of presumption but seem to be waiting to disappoint me yet again.
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