It's like a walk through the park
retreating to a wilted tree
seeing them all play catch
while you deteriorate to a gap of paralyzation

it's very hard to play along
hardly proficient with the pedent rules

as the sun sheers it's light just for you
mother nature arises to your needs
you're ingenuously embraced
not by your fello men
only by the still

you yearn for some recognition
homage
sympathy
never intact with yourself
forever disappointed

as the kettle whistles
saying it's prayer for your profound self
you shift the drapes, settle in your arm-chair
waiting fdr the moon to rise
a moon which would end your day
you are thrusted with despair