deepundergroundpoetry.com
What Ails Me Still?
Just a thought of fancy, a shimmering twisting vale, home to all good creatures upon there merry way
I sit a dreamer dammed, lost but not forgotten, my hearts truth but a beat away
The fear of all I am, the fear of people knowing, the fear of never growing in that splendid sort of way
Tell me of yourself, I'm sure I'd understand, for the longing that’s in all of us is but common to all man
Why then so insecure to be that I am, do I dread the look of difference that your face will wear and speak are we not brothers and sisters that in unity we should seek
I look to none for pity for a victim I am not, I look upon this creation and see it is but me with many mirrors mirroring all facets therein I planned, in a realm not long forgotten, my souls happy land.
I sit a dreamer dammed, lost but not forgotten, my hearts truth but a beat away
The fear of all I am, the fear of people knowing, the fear of never growing in that splendid sort of way
Tell me of yourself, I'm sure I'd understand, for the longing that’s in all of us is but common to all man
Why then so insecure to be that I am, do I dread the look of difference that your face will wear and speak are we not brothers and sisters that in unity we should seek
I look to none for pity for a victim I am not, I look upon this creation and see it is but me with many mirrors mirroring all facets therein I planned, in a realm not long forgotten, my souls happy land.
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