I have not finished each day with a proud feeling.
Here is where I stay
Trapped Beneath a limited and worn out Ceiling
Drops of confidence fill my waking hours
For each one of these, I have a garden
such isn't fertile enough to sprout any colorful flowers
In my drab lifestyle
Where not a soul dares to roam
I try and try as hard as I might
I see no way out of being alone a missionary
Who is always searching for a place to call “Home.”