I have always been a sad child
What am I to do but seek?
I grow concerned
That my desires will harm the ones that care for me
And I care for and love them
Yet I live as a protected spinster
Building walls of teapots and books
Building fortresses of trellises and rose bushes
I dream of parties no one will ever attend
I picture myself standing grand
With wit and poise I’ve never been blessed with
Once I realized I am like that funny little Nowhere Man
Always going, going
Doing many great things at once
Never accomplishing anything great
Does that not make me a failure?