Losing my identity, your wrath

I  have not forgotten grammar.I am trying to say it the wat we used wheb I was in  theNorth

Afraid of sinking sands and silent death
Losing my identity, your wrath
That is a place of beauty I could  die
As other people sauntered gaily by

I used to see great tigers in my dreams
I could not breathe and neither could I scream
I lay  there stiffly like a  stolen corpse
Waiting for a wooden cart and horse

The Tilley lamp  began to hiss and moan
As if aware of menaces unknown
All alone with flu I lay in bed
Daddy, can’t you come back in my head?

Dad and I  would chat, sat in the park
After  losing him, I  rarely spoke

Now I see why I didn’t speak until I had to to make money
But why give lectures on mathematics?
Mute: learn Calculus and dwell on infinity