A burden weighs upon my breast,
crushing each attempt at breath.
A burden weighs upon my brow,
obscuring thought in fog and down.
A burden weighs upon my core,
Aching sick with self scorn.
A century I have felt this weight,
though seconds passed for every day.
With compassion upon your face – You dare with yoke make me slave!
A silken shawl my yoke adorns,
a burden bore alone we mourn.
A gossamer gown upon my breast,
encumbered steps together treadst.
Though for each second passes a day,
a century is far too brief this intimate stay.
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