The Chameleon conforms to routine,
methodical single steps,
sticking stable to his tree

leap! But when lacking a cut-away
this forbids him to disconnect,
never will he encounter true threat.

A supressed dark cloud of regret,
An internalised suffragette,
A prisoner to Darwin’s set

restricted but aware, a dreamy
youthful oblivion has now
been reserved.

A stimulated mind,
Flickering eyes,
a sentry set.

The chameleon a slave to instinct
now brainless,
No, more dead.

now, it is said “Mr
Chameleon can
you change?”

The answer, No!
Severity of setting,
Has confined me to a cage

Senseless but aware, vexation grasped them near.
Tension saturated the air, countless eyes analysing in fear
Few steered clear,
take the journey there’s nothing to fear
few knew not to adhere,
few emerge from the blinding fog-filled air.

On the journey to bliss, memorable detail replenishes the air
Look too far and that path will disappear
No corners, just foggy temptation bounding me here
ignorance is bliss but it is hard to be blind when all I do is see
simplicity was never the key

Cold walls of steel hold all else near,
yet these walls have always been clear.
Constricted and cold standing in fear
Many men of stature, now scared for time.
Broken and beat, experience lowers the veil of time

The blank path is for the endearing reassurance is sparse
Enjoy each step until the last
A day will come when you perish
Don’t let it be on a fast