Why does she stare at me like that? 
What does she, what do they, expect from me?
I am nothing, only one of many, I matter only now
Now when time holds still to the second hand slowly turning
And I stand here perplexed in this moment, thinking
Thinking about why and how come and hating
Hating me for being me, so impulsive and clueless
Reckless, and yet not reckless enough
Failing at being a failure, never to complete a cycle
for its entirety even if the cycle is that of death
And even if it is not that of death, why not that 
of the damaged and destroyed? Because 
in this moment, the very one as of now,
I am meaningless, a lost person who
is not unable, but unwilling to commit 
You have lost your sense of direction 
My Dear, and that is why you are hated 
by more than just yourself. 
They all see you and what you have become
You are No longer a secret
You are just a lost child headed down the 
wrong path, one in which she will wander 
forever until the path has ended, or till
she has ended the path.