Face ghouls of dark woods,
My child, living in that world and this one,
Me, not doing what would,
Place me in yet another world, not here,
Lying on kitchen floors,
Anxious for being unsought, childishly,
Instantly questioning what it's all for.
But that is all part of the adventure,
The risk of being you,
Tools don't have problems of identity,
Defined by what they do.
Not what they want,
One day can do so much.
It shows you how fast you can be alone.
How far away things seem without your touch.
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