and how it warms,
when love is not in their eyes
only greed

still, heat comes about,
a flood, a dam broken down
a something lost

a flood, fire intense
my world no longer poor
for i too am human, am i not?

and warmth keeps me
in the sane room,
no longer a misfit
where the good people
throw their crumbs

for rats do not get to choose.

still i rather be an eagle,
you know, of course you do
for how i see, how you see not
when the gift is given
and contempt lies within
what was so easily yours

something you never did earn.

or earn you did,
on a cursed fountain
still spewing
forth … a million wicked lies!

lucy sobs

i hope you are happy now.