The Wrong Man

The Wrong Man

The wrong man looks sort of like the old one

The wrong man is the increasingly colder one

He walks a half second slower

His head hangs a few degrees lower

And on his forehead is stamped the word “dread”

He can point at the timeline where he was birthed

Recall the date when the former man was cursed

He doesn’t like his name

And his desire has yet to change

“Please return me to where I came”

“Destroy me along with my shame”

The former man had died many years ago

He was now a phantom until... he didn’t know

There is no former

There is only the future

I’m not dead because I’m not living

Pick up the pieces

Clean up the messes

And eventually I will see the former man in you again

I promise