You would not tell that I could fall apart
And land inside the belly of my fears
Where they have made a meal of my heart
I'm crushed beneath the things I'm forced to know.
And though you may chance by the place I fell
It's best to keep the rhythm of your walk
No need for other people in my hell-
Go on beneath the sun's bright pretty dress.
And should it be that I cannot emerge
From that which has me trapped of my own craft
Do not expect to hear some woeful dirge
On the normal day that this has always been.