looking in the mirror,is that really me,short and curvy,not tall and boxy.beautiful,not handsome.feminine,not masculine.all i can think is,is that really me?
is my body my ownor is it controlled by someoneand im in the passenger seatcause why was i made like thisa girl with boobsnot a boy with a flat chesti envy them,all of them
Consulting summer's clock,But half the hours remain.I ascertain it with a shock --I shall not look again.The second half of joyIs shorter than the first.The truth I do not dare to knowI muffle with a jest.
THERE once the wallsOf the ruined cottage stood.The periwinkle crawlsWith flowers in its hair into the wood.In flowerless hoursNever will the bank fail,With everlasting flowersOn fragments of blue plates, to tell the tale.
Growth of Man -- like Growth of Nature --Gravitates within --Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it --Bit it stir -- alone --Each -- its difficult IdealMust achieve -- Itself --Through the solitary prowessOf a Silent Life --Effort -- is the sole condition --Patience of Itself --Patience of opposing forces --And intact Belief --Looking on -- is the DepartmentOf its Audience --But Transaction -- is assistedBy no Countenance --