I make efforts to please people, or at least not to annoy them. Maybe that's a virtue, maybe it isn't, but I fear I take it too far at times. I don't want to hurt anyone, but caring so much might be the very thing that creates a rift between me and those I want to be closer to.
I splashed in a fountain once. I was not given my flower crown, the dryads did not sing for me.
A long time ago I reached for the sun and only burnt my hand. Trees wilt when I pass by.
The mountain has not returned my phone call.
I looked in a mirror and it did not embrace me until I saw nothing but darkness.
Images say nothing, but they do not rebuke either.
Children cry and mothers walk faster when they see me. I have been attacked by the ground.
I am nothingness.