all knowledge so complete
i am the cook
i am the professor
i am the artist
but never the confessor

why would you watch me
and dart like a hawk
your words are stained with thoughts
that you found in the cart
and when you pull it, it just falls apart

but life is about the living
there is no shrine, no tribute or monument
you were there
and now, albeit. sadly, you are not

we all wanted to be found and discovered
we all wanted to be different
and now, years ahead
to be no more than we feared
as regret and what if takes you to bed

do we look back over our lives
and look at the paths taken
moments of joy, moments of love
moments when we were shaken

but these days
we are all turned inside out
starved,
of intellectual highs
and truths

how can it be –
be so unreal
i am left with that stress
made by others
who claim they are the depression