Mr. Nobody Lives Here

Tall grass on an open field.

Clear, cold sky.

Clouds so low they sit on the horizon.

Is that foreboding shack abandoned?

Carefree Happiness must surely have lived here once.

Remnants of that memory dance in the foreground.

But Careful Self-Control must have once lived here too.

Fragments of straight and narrow, black and white have left traces of their past.

That was then,

This is now.

Whatever came before,

Mr. Nobody Lives Here now.