I sat with chin in hand as wind blew outside my house
A mouse I had become
No I can't be Alexander, the greatest victor.
I can't be, the Christian martyr the great old Joanna
I wasn't the man who new infinity
Or the missile man, rose from my sweet land of thousand martyrs, lovers, poets, scientists and warriors.

I was a mouse instead
I hated the wind blew across every little child's face or the sunshine which spoke of merry days.
I hated statues, the pedestals for I couldn't be on them. I hated trees, for I couldn't be generous as them, I hated and hated everything and everyone whether it was the...