In a day called time,
And a time that was day.
I sat on him and pondered:
Reminiscing the role I’ve played being obtuse
Remembering the conquering battle i had with bliss,
Because, in exorbitant extol, I exalt myself.
I muse in misery in those memories,
I ignored the chance to being humble,
I gave a chance to water my pride,
Now, it’s tall and firm,
But with bad fruit it bear.
In deep melancholy i have grown with my pride.
Here I sit on its fribble branch,
With my parlous, yet, an eye-opening saw.