I Have Not Lived
by Rachel A. GoldI have not lived; trouble has passed me by,
My sorrows have been few, and not severe,
Some in the world are far worse off than I,
Why should I sigh and wish for things less near?
But sameness, every day and night the same,
No thrills, no joys, a humdrum endless path;
I sometimes feel that I am but a name,
Tied to a doll, who cannot cry or laugh.
What does one do when one grows tired of things?
Come, tell me frankly, I want your advice;
I've thought of many plans, rejected all,
Its not that plans like these are not so nice,
Whatever happened I would not be blamed
But what's the object if one comes out maimed?
Tuesday, 04-May-2010 14:48:29 EDT