Fourteen Dreamers Poem by Danny The Dreamer Boyd

I can't remember who I was, alas,
And each attempt at times their faces blur;
I can't remember who they even were,
And every time less green yet gets the grass!
I swear I've always wished all storms would pass,
But mostly I was—damn—the one to err,
Ah, violent storms one simply can't just slur;
I seem the one who loves to loss amass!
I have to hold the pain both day and night, —
They say that pain someday makes one mature.—
Oh, fool, I thought each one would end my woe!
I used to lie that all would be all right,
But since tomorrow'll ever be obscure:
I want the kid fourteen cursed mes ago!