I laugh at it sometimes,
the heavy guilt life latches on my shoulders,
the prying eyes spying on my movements for signs,
the itching feeling of doubt rubbing my forehead,
the reflection gawking back at me like a shadow,
the immense pressure dotting my chest,
the angelic tones of old birds chirping in each ear,
the virgin breeze stirring me awake,
I laugh at it sometimes,
but these day's never seem to laugh back.
