Sam's poetry

Samya and I were at it again. Self-sympathizing and wallowing in the situation that we are not doing what we want to do. In other words not following our dreams. (This is at an age of 33 years old for each of us). And Sam actually wrote a few lines of poetry. Here it goes:

mirror mirror on the wall,
what's my dream, wherefore I shall,
make my mark and garner my riches,
put to rest the demon that itches,
and scratches and bites and brawls and breys
and makes moments add up to a terrible day

Very Cool I say!