As simple as the roll of a die

There is a truth to be told

Untold it remains because until it happens

It will remain unknown

Even to those who are part of it,

Even to those it will affect

This truth is simple, basic

And a secret will remain

Until my life needs it to be gone

 


From the mind of Cogliostro

Who...

I don’t know who I am

And I fear such unknown

Who am I?

The friend, the lover, the boyfriend,

The son, the brother, the pest,

The cheater, the present,

The one, the future,

The teacher, the depressed,

The scorched, the player,

The lone one, the anger,

The hunger, the envy,

The pride, the vanity,

The greed, the sloth,

The lust, the idiotic,

Just
Who am I?

The examples are so silly

Yet so obvious of a being, uncertain

Of who he is, or will be, or was

I am the scrap of who I am

 


From the mind of Cogliostro

On the day we met

On the day we were

Right in the month of nowhere

And in the year of the end

I just can’t say

What I was that day

That day hasn’t come yet

That day isn’t here yet

I feel like that one ache

The one I once felt

When she came to tear my soul

When she came to tear my heart

When she broke me

I feel that way now

I feel that same way

As I lay my ink on this page

I could only…

If I could only see these words disappear,

If I could only make it go away, but I can’t

My heart, my soul, they just,

They just explode here and I miss her,

Her the one that was, the woman that is,

But even more so the one, the woman that will be…

From the mind of Cogliostro

The thought, the idea, the wish

The thought, the idea, the wish

It all begins like such

It’s always the same

But who should I listen to

Who is she?

Who do I want?

When shall I meet her?

Am I too demanding of myself and the world?

Or just the opposite

I need…

From the mind of Cogliostro

The boiling feeling, the burn sensation

The dark feeling, the mad sensation

Only noise I heard

No care for them I had

To see no one I wanted

But the faces kept the challenge

Their dignity was non existent

And I hated them for it

They reek to impatience, disorder, and mayhem

They are broken

Or is it something else?

But in the end I wanted, I want, I need

Some sanity and freedom.

From the mind of Cogliostro