The guilt from the grasp,
we should not desire. You
think I can’t see, smiles of
glee, kindle the fire. Though
you may be quick, it is I, who
must quit. Worry, you may, try,
to remain, composed, the dire
grows. Will you see through,
now, my struggle, the casual
pose. Perhaps it is I, who must
learn, life, the inevitable yearn.