Is it such a bad thing
In such a long run
To pick out one bad thing
After another
So easy to lose touch
Mostly fragile
Much too shy to say
Let bygones be
The pen now a crutch
For the clutch of sparrow-hawks
That chalk the inner walk
In place of open talk
The one bad thing
That led to another
Doubts intrinsically rose
One hope is to rediscover
