And suddenly, as if waking from a child's dream,
I am thrown into reality,
not awoken softly by my mother's warmth
but startled and bewildered to find her not there.
I exit the hazy surrealness of midnight rendezvous,
and the disillusionment snakes its way around my heart.
As if struggling to find my breath or finding myself alone,
I am starkly confronted yet again with my naiveté.
I am transformed into that little girl who trusted so easily,
and now, it is not just disappointment but also shame
that, like a vapor, evades every corner of my being.
To have believed in a dream and my own competence,
I am still that foolish little girl who never learned.
Perhaps, the worst part of gullibility is the knowledge
that the fool and the fooled will always be you.

There are the whispers that call the crows and these crows are numbered three. They are named Gullibility, Doubt and Misery

If ever a time you lose your strength or become lost amongst the pain, then these three crows will ensure you never find your way

Gullibility you see, with eyes as black as mud, has razor claws always red for he always draws first blood

Doubt is quite plain but with ruffled feathers greyed. Not so much the specialist, but is best amongst the plague

And finally swoops Misery, bloodied beak on black. The final move in a worn out soul, Death's merciful attack