Light headed and eager,

to see something I cannot see,

The epitome of a loner,


But the ego greets —

and tackles the only light left in my soul.

I must remember to be conscious–

of the actions I convey through my tone.

I say, “I am sorry,” again and again,

but only my head is free…

Therefore, I must contemplate

Why to speak, if all I talk about is

the way I think things shall be.

It is me and me and me

in relation to you,

It is anguish beneath my eyes

as your heavy feet enter the room.

For, I am the creation of others,

and I hate what they have done.

I am an exaggerated being filled up with

angst in each lung.

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