With how tired I am,
I am not amazed with how uncomfortable this chair is.
Countless men proposed, yet I chose,
The one who would break my back with house chores.

I should have thought more.
I could have thought more…
I should have listened to my mother.

These wooden floors are hard and cold,
My hair is shedding, and I feel old.
The colours on this glass window,
would they fade in time to reveal,
what is false and what is real?

My heart is bursting.
It is of no consequence.

What is the benefit of looking out the window at my shattered youth?
The view is dreary,
And I am growing more and more weary.

Lord, relieve this sore.