Dreary of a dark empty space,
The loneliness crowded,
Which somewhat I called—
"A Place Unwanted."
To them may it be madness:
A pretense of his suffering,
His mindful selfishness.
But not how I would label me.

To be covered in lunacy:
Lies coming from about,
Changing colors and theme,
Wading of goodness.
Their ways of hypocrisy.
I was a sea of countless woe,
To be brave but unsure.
Am I ever safe, if I never show?

The gaiety beyond avenue,
Through under glass I look.
The joy fits for most,
But not a dream to be oath.
Overtaking my inmost true,—
These things behind the sun.
What I should walk away from,
But it could never be done.