A solemn and sunken sight.
I look not pouted, nor upset,
But unwhole.
I am not yet complete, as I search to become.

A skeleton could focus better than I now.
My vision becomes blurred as my brain sinks to my stomach, next to my heart.

I am not yet content,
You T u hold no consent to be.
It's the content of my present that makes the gift of time seem so stale.

To change this all I must move...
Mind and body.

Maybe my placid gaze will be wiped clean,
Back to its once brilliant emerald glow.
Emerald? No.
But I cannot afford modesty if I wish a stronger to believe in me.