What's wrong with me that I can't hear
that sweet, sweet music in my ear?
like going in circles, round and round
why can't the end be found?
This legend I made will not end
it will not break or twist or bend
creating a monster I cannot kill
murder is against my will
Butterflies fluttering here and there
like finding a poem, where, oh where?
no matter how far I go in flight
I still can't find anything to write.
Terri Hope Waters
March 1997