Illusion was myself

I wished!

I could!

Now, I slap myself,

For the fever.

Fever inflicted by me.

On me!

Like I was still falling,

For an ant I trampled decades back.

I don’t want to be good,

Anymore,

Nomore.

I want to pipe out;

Streams to the crops;

Of the present.

Make happiness.

I take the second choice,

I go with you!