Black and blue, brown and white,
The bundles I carry are fluffy and light;
My eyes are heavy, my garment blood red,
It is scarlet for my dreams, which are regrettably now dead.
I chose not this path, I chose not this name
My efforts to change have flickered in vain;
If only there was some way for me to be,
So much more than I’ve come to see.
This verse is unwieldy, its rhymes unfair
I see myself, and I,