Delusions of a vagabond

Again I am drifting, down This all too familiar stream of discontent Alone Too candidly, I gazed upon deceitful reflections, weaving beneath these placid pools That debilitate, my essence true My fate, now worse than death For even dormant volcanoes, explode Now and then Alas The dye is cast, the bed is made I have nothing more to forfeit, But A vagabond soul...