  Patch-work doll I wandered lonely as a cloud To see what sights I could behold. But it held nothing. Surrounded by empty shells. Broken mirrors reflect shattered images and fragmented solids. And I find myself amongst the pieces Patch-work doll.
But I still have my soul, And so I sing. Who is the ‘I’ that I dream of? Am I the ‘I’ that is the truth that wandered? I have built my dreams on those daffodils, And watched the sunbeams in silence and solitude through broken windows. Waiting for the rains. Which have come. To fall heavy, And weigh down my sodden frame. I sink. 
