I am full of desperation,
But in a subtle way.
I, a mannequins reflection,
Stuck in trials of objection,
Record deeds in introspection,
to guess how much I weigh.

I look out through the porch above my nose.
and stare there wondering how far I'll have to grow.
To reach those flags I set myself, up in the cloudy grove.
And I just watch impatiently, I know nobody knows.
But in this mire , of a mind that I have built,
I hold to swallow dives,
And long, fast drives,
Mystic nursery rhymes,
although I grip the rope.