Illusive truth!

I have illusions, yes, why not?

I’m dainty and I’m free, a swallow light with feathers,
A pretty one, with fine golden hair and just a bit of a waist.

Then a petty glance, a bent reflection, and
The childhood memories fester, pulling.
Look again! Now! I know the truth! 

      Don’t say it, please. 
      Don’t make it true with your fine opinion.

Look again! Watch! Stomp! Stomp! Where’s the dainty tread now?
It never was, never! Watch! Now! I know the truth!
I’m not the pretty one. I’m not the dainty one!

Oh no, don’t see it too.
See the time the fearing graying rancid mist does not seep in.
And you can see the willows brush against my face.

Do you know the feeling?