What Am I?
I thought myself to be something;
One who was different, great,
I was to myself in this living.
Bound for highest highs,
Despite all the lowering lows;
An enchanting personage,
Meant for honour and bows.
But so long only can last,
A life of self deceit and aggrandisement;
Taking away my rosy glasses,
Truth endows me with disappointment.
Life once made me proud,
With all its believed greatness and gaiety;
Comes to me as worthless,
For me I now feel, not sorrow but pity.
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