Self made nothing or noted of my dreams,
Though in due course it seems I have
I’ll write these things that seem so real
Deep in the core, vital energies arise
Upon scattered dreams that dwell within
I’ve lead a life no other could have.
Before I’m called by lynching shadows
Rescued none other than the dream I’ve lost
Once burned away, carried by the gallows of shame,
Daunting characteristics cause unrest
Am I selfish as a self—made idea?
Forming protesting against the world
For now I subside, looking at the ending.
