A thousand dreams woven
beneath the feet of hard working
                                         reflections.
But nothing ventured forth,
       like a corpse of bricked virtues
the land didn't give birth to life.

Only bricks of contemplation were
        built, and they were vacant
of any substance. For what is built
     had nothing to fill it only ideals.

For earth that shelter one,
       will endeavour to show no yield.
And only vacant ideals stand where
                   crops have faulted on brick..

I at one time had this "unimportant"
Thing called "friends,"
We used to play and run about,
Nowadays it's jut a waste of time,
Don't even have a clue where to find "my crowd,"
I'm just another face in the crowd, oh joy.
I'd probably get left behind anyway,
It's how people are these days,
Don't know if you'll come out to play,
But then again who cares, it's 'cause I'm "gay!"
No matter what it's all my fault, I'm to blame,
So now my life will be a waste, I'll never be the same,
But at least I still have my health and the joy of being
A complete and total "human pain!"