Making believe turned into grieve
Forcing abandonment of hunger for fit
Leaving it sucking on a stiff wooden tit
Trying desperately to conform
To what can’t ever be warmed
As if pretending adorned with riches
What had been suckled by witches
Hopeful is weary with incessant hitches
Wanting, wooing, waiting, worrying
Afraid of what most enriches
If once more it comes with glitches
