Shadow Man

Here he lays on a lonely bed, can’t get past the clutter in his head. He knows he has a soul he can feel it deep inside, though his face will age he knows he’ll stay alive. He sits in a spacious room, close to his dream so chased again his wish came true, he’s in a comfortable place. But for all his big ideas the trouble is he hasn’t got the space. He knows he has a heart, hears the cries from deep inside, within the mess that he sees. His song is playing again it tingles through his vanes “To my healing I am change but to myself I am estranged, within a heaven of god given bliss I am a hell of burning pain. Now I watch possibility looking at me in the face, who is this character I see and why is he so strange?” By Mark Shackleton