This sickness that twined around my soul
Till I became blind and couldn’t see,
Carved upon me a vacant hole
From which ambition was set free
It had been worth living,
When they perceived me as mature
What have I been thriving?
What on earth was demure?
They tell me I have been happy
That I was who I wanted to be
With their voices so husky,
They roll the blame all over me
They ask me not to lie
For no one would I satisfy
I endeavored to fly, loved to flutter,
But my lovely road diverged
In the sky, I could but wonder,
When doggedness would be emerged
I merely thought when
There was nothing to think about,
Endlessly sought then,
Afraid to see them shout.
Till it became fatal cold,
I ran under the rain
Mysteries I wanted to unfold
But I couldn’t remain
Who could anyway
Deny the truth and continue the play?
Jessica J. Hanna