I walk uncertainly and allegorically,
An occasional poetic rhythm won’t disturb prose,
but an occasional prose rhythm makes poetry fall down.
I suppose everyone is a bit like that.
But because I think this,
and against my will,
it has also stopped setting for me.
An unfortunate one,
There were things I wanted,
but I was denied any reason for wanting them.
Right or wrong,
happy or sad,
be your own self.