He sits quietly at the table
Thoughts are fading whispers, blending with the surrounding
They don’t know he’s unstable
Mental fissures abound, separate lives straining for release
Another speaks loudly
Contradicting the spoken rabble of unrecognizing fellows
They, use ignorance proudly
Acting as though the Tower of Bable were an umbrella of wisdom
He never wanted to sit in this chair
Dreams and glittering things always seemed so far
Now he finds his reflection stares
With marked dullness, eyes always ajar
There may further be hope
He’d known one or two to break away
But familial chains create rope
Settled lives require his day
Solace creates comfort on its own
Sacrifice the past for the future
His life is on loan
The father must be a producer
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