Idiot

Guess who is the idiot?
Someone who depends.
Guess who is foolish?
Someone who trusts.

When you're not alone and finally lonely,
When you're already lost but still remember
some glances of the pathway towards home,

They come.
A very deep light.
And they come,
a messy light. Then they come,
a darker shade of black, a light.
So they come.

A reminder is,
they come to tell you a story.
A story of the directionless,
their most favourite lie,
the off-key song  they never stop singing.

They tell a story
of a pathless and half-lost owl.

Well, the victim is me.
I know what's next.
Know the shade is invisible,
and I am just empty.

Was finding the rainbow,
then realised,
it's a world without colour.
The question is,
didn't they bring some light?

I saw them coming,
saw the light,
heard their lies,
and the story
of that pathless and half-lost owl.

What a waste.
What a shame.
What an idiot.

When will I ever learn? 

Because the owl in their story was me.
I realise they didn't forget the pathway towards their home.
In fact, they have it memorised.

They came to play
with someone lost.
They tell lies in large amounts,

and one only true story:

of a pathless and half-lost pathetic owl.

"They are human," I understood.
                       And
                
               I am an Idiot.

              Brilliantly numb.