So desperate for the honey
I would lick the sharpest blade
Feeling myself, crumble, slowly away
Made of flimsy, lumped, papier-mâché
The aches pervade, my deepest insane
My mangled tongue, has, nothing left to say
Lost my way, in the olive tree's shade
On the nymph's path, to the solemn glade
My heart was misplaced, somewhere in the rains
This was the only thing, that I had left to trade
Extending my hand, someone please lead me away
Our clasp, will wither the afraid, of our sadly made charade
