WHAT IF..

what if I am not what I was that is that you say I was
and the will to see me as you have seen the world
dried up in your thoughts, that I may be what you
never expect for me to be even in your eyes that I
may never become that which you envy in me that you see in yourself,
what if I died today and my soul never wonder
as you said it would, but stay here in my apartment
with the webs of spiritual traits hanging on the black
memory of my wasted body lay to rest.
What if I should excape the burning of souls the desire
to be cold yet warm, died but still alive walking the rivers
that wash my feet yet not seeing the tears I cry, what if
I am not what I am and no one knows but the maker that mold
me into this ebony piece of clay.