An iambic tetrameter

Life is what you make it, they say.
If nature's so benign to life,
Then why did life so cruelly play
And stab me with its sharpest knife?

Remarks divide our conversations;
Events conspire to mark our lives.
Full stops are merely punctuation
But fits divide my days like knives.

Electric sparks within my mind
Denied me peace of mind. Instead
Each day my head was so unkind
To let me live when I would be dead.

Bounded by a noose's knot
That tightens while the victim flails,
I'm bound like loosened lips are not;
My ship was sunk before their tales.

How did the pirate breach my mind?
From womb or dissipated youth?
Get out! And leave my head and mind,
My perfect mind, my only truth.

But is it, was it true before?
Abandon thoughts of being all;
I wonder why I'm now made poor,
Though pride does come before a fall.

The last I thought would I to bear
Is this, and early death appeared
More likely than the curse I wear,
Not to die is to be feared.

in requiem October 2001

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