And of fate’s chance to swim past,
Eluding him in the coldest storm to task,
Nor better wasted his only plank to rot
In final hours his laying to rest came close,
And all his dreams once he knew soon darkened
Ere the sun pause for hour more to mourn
The curse that whims overhead in darker shades in blue.
All the mornings and evenings were equal,
All the nights became his eyes to feel,
Hence resigned was he from birth and then to pass,
Though he’d continue to listen and hear advice,
He never sought to make dues with what word he heard,
For he could never in all his woe and spite come forward.
This, in all his thoughts and feelings, this he surpressed,
And in itself he resorted to shortcomings in recess and in lewd,
Too soon was the young man who cast himself away to scorn,
Too soon was the young man to linger in hopes and in misery,
Now come the spelling of his name in no greater shade,
For bitter hopes soon swept like blood outsourcing the falls,
This much he thought and this much he lost to passing time,
So new was the glimpse of despair in utter shame,
This much he could never have if not so lame,
Indeed he accepted his defeat in little life,
But he won the insight to lead a better life.

Category:
Life, Poetry, Works
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