Etcetera

They say I'm etcetera, is it a true?They say there's nothing with me to doIf I were them, I would rather dieThan think up my tainted pride

Maybe I'm sick, maybe I'm goneMaybe I'm searching for the goldMaybe I'm dead, maybe I'm lostMaybe I'm just reaching for my own

What a surprise! Lovely painLoves coming to me like every dayThey don't understand much 'bout meBut already know that problems exist

Maybe I'm done, maybe I'm ghostMaybe these walls somewhen will fallMaybe I'm fed up, maybe I'm wastedMaybe I've worn myself out too long

November 2021

* Время экспериментов! На самом деле, это стихотворение давно покоилось недописанным в черновиках, но вот недавно я решила дать ему жизнь.

P. S. За полную грамотность не ручаюсь.