To Be Somebody Else
I'm toils in clumps
A springer made stump,
And yearning to be somebody else,
This picture imperfect-
To skies stares are worthless,
In an attic this Rembrandt dons a shelf;
Of course there is a usual,
Of friends and family confusion built,
In their perception abusing the "This too shall pass",
Acrimonious shrills and shriekings-
Soft, too nymphet these kinds I reek this-
Too these share of my breathing as tenure so crude."t'is a laugh"
To curtail stems a plaudit,
Mine are hails in dreams less all this,
And in cursing a deity deems tenuous to "Forever" itself .
This jade evoluting digress-
A "postural fixture",
yet within."A MESS",
Gloss mirrors reflect, What's Left,
"To Be Somebody Else!"
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