Querulant

Can I be this, would be true then?
I have turned in former times and differently have behaved.
If help has promised to me from there where one should find them.
I did not find them, found, actually, the opposite
And:
It has been off sick me in soul and on body.
Call me not cracked, call me not crazy, son.
Once somebody has said it you, it was the same person who spoke:
"Lines describe with nothing"
How crazily is this fine?!
To despair of offices and places, until one wants nothing more,
Oh, nevertheless: it is worth own will to preserve!
Like many it may go out in such a way, to many which say themselves:
"What I should do only if one may not know the respect for me."
The people who treat the other even like mud,
Internally they are for me the numbers, interchangeable.
And: because they know this, they act a little often to nothing at all.
Who gives back the stolen lifetime, you want to say it me?
Or if you stare me only silly in, grins and thinks: "What she wants
Number only from me what it pretends?!"
Yes, this "number" only pretends to be valid as a person and to remain it
Up to the death.
I do not write down self-evident facts so with pleasure, but that,
Itself out of that recognise, they say only one: "Treat people as you yourself want to be treated and this does not go: take your hat and go away."

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