Once again the soul sauntered
Wounded and wailing it wandered
Enveloped by a sense of lassitude
It entered the gateways of solitude.

Boarding the rusting wagon of illusion
It fled to the fortress of imagination
Away from the fretting sentiments
And all the binding commitments

Locked away in it's inner sanctum
Turning the pages of year old wisdom
It searched for the answer of a nagging question
Whether it was in truth, the victim or the felon.