How could I?

 

What a fool I was

to think, or even

imagine that words were

more than a Morning-glory’s

fading beauty.

 

What an idiot I was

to trust eyes’

speechless syllables

when in the end they

only withered into tears.

 

What a dreamer I was

to believe that I could be

anything else than

but a shadow of

the person I want to be.