Teetering between flight and fight...
with the promised land in my soul's sight...
but somewhat sunken by my plight...
a pessimist, too dark to see how the world shimmers from my light...
becoming more and more the stay at home type...
More inclined to stay alone and write...
or read words from dead poets who feel more like my type...
Than typical trendy young socialites...
If I should die, I pray I'm born again as solar light-
the first sun beam who cuts through the dark and kills the night.
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