Sometimes I feel I miss something:

the world of the book I finished
chances I seemed to have
unrealized plans

desires that do not pass
or my courage ducking
behind practical objections

Then I want a world of my own
to be special, or beautiful
with people who listen to me

but people don't do that
and that is sad, just as sad
as being common in common clothes

and being not so beautiful
obliged to live
in a not so beautiful world