I’m no guide, but I find myself leading
And when another slips, falls keening
There I am, a shoulder to lean on
And I ask myself, “Do I really belong?”
These lights and these people
Am I here standing, or am I a steeple?
Have I become the haven I crave?
Have I settled, become another’s save?
I look back at all my flaws and laugh
I’m that smile, that flare and chaff
Beating off all the ghosts that haunt
As my own soul starves, goes gaunt
The mirror has always offered answer
But I’ve always ignored it like a cancer
Gotta tuck my hands away; pretend
Martyrdom never looked better on me in the end.