Marching Along. Poem by Sandra jacks

I've had my fill,
my taste of this world,
lost between the empty words,
and things I shouldn't think.

Singing all alone,
to myself,
my little song.

Behaving as an angel,
but knowing all along...
somethings wrong.

Maybe I'm too much for you,
....maybe that's a lie....
I'm too much for me...
now aren't I.

This world has sung it's song,
and danced it's dance,
I've played along,
marching,
to the beat,
....of the ants.