I don’t know who I am, and fear I’ll lose my way.
I wander after dark, searching for the day.
Perhaps someone will hear, perhaps someone will know,
perhaps she will draw near, or maybe she’ll just go.
I wanted love and found it not;
I searched for it, but all I got—
for all I fought, for all I sought—
was emptiness and rot.
Cold and wet, I walk away
into a storm that seems to say
that seems to speak by wind and rain
it fills my mind, breaks through the pain—
The thunder’s rolling overhead
and warning me that I am dead.
Tale Told 