What I used to be.

I used to wander dark paths,

stumbling across rocks or maybe

protruding teeth from the ravenous ground.

The beggar stetches out his hand.

Name: Elias.

Clutching his grandiose jacket,

And pretensious clothes,

To his body.

I once stood where he now stands,

I built my house on shifting sands,

and walked in the place of sadness.

Sometimes I wish I was still there,

The easy place,

The hiding place.

I wish I never found the searing light,

sometimes

It reduces me to a teaspoon of steaming ashes,

devoid of the former waste and badness.