My absinth problem
I’ve been rumored to dream,
Of a thing with wings that seem,
Rightly a dream or an imagined ray or beam.
I’ve been rumored to dream of angels.
I’ve been humored to live,
As is and should be a life,
Composed and made for eyes to believe,
A facade devoid of all strife.
I’ve been humored to live a dream.
I’ve been rumored and humored.
The stripes and scars I have,
Aren’t medals I stacked up for grace;
The manners I learned not to have;
The challenges I learned not to face;
The love I fancied never to share;
And only felt it fair,
To have less to my heart,
And as such more for my skin and mind to bare.
A heartless hound…