I sit alone,
Comfortless;
And so I groan,
Useless;
And on I moan,
For what I have become.

They pass by,
Mockingly;
While there I die,
Pointlessly;
And so I cry;
For what I have become.

And pity’s sake,
Earnestly;
Is e’er so fake,
Pointlessly;
And so I wake,
For what I have become.

For what I have become?
But what is that?
Doth it all hideously sum,
To many a vile fact?

I am what I have been,
And ‘tis they who change.
By their eyes I am seen,
But not hit by their rage.
To myself I have been true,
Though my life in lies doth hum,
And finally I laugh at you,
For what thou hast become