Unprepared Morph

[runicvision]

The pain--
My head, aching.
The rain--
My skull, breaking.

It hurts,
This pain within.
It burns,
Beneath my skin.

But why,
Must I endure?
I try.
My thoughts are pure.

So sure:
I, unworthy.
So pure:
My thoughts, dirty.

How true,
Not what I seem.
So new,
All like a dream.

I see,
Of all my change,
All me.
I rearrange.