Would that I could make things right
That all my plans and circumstances,
Lessened their demands;
An anthem played,
To save us from our plights;
I don't expect an answer.
Prancing in my fancy stead,
A trance that beckons ruefully,
Unusual, and foolish – are my hands another cancer?
Banishment and backwards balusters;
Beset by cowardice; unsure;
I sense that in my hour, left in need,
Indeed am I the monster, drunk
On fairy fable powers that I sponsored.
Brandishing a heart that knows its part;
Bestowed an omen.
And thou art another scrambling mad man,
Damned in dumb demands;
Endowed with dirt.
Her tower should've seen a reverence, respected;
Royal in her eminence,
Instead of lust, and covetously clutched;
I find,
That I'm the one who soured elements;
A mess of my impediments
Reflected.
I'd cry a sorrowful departure,
I'd whisper to the wind of all the horrors I embarked upon her,
I'd drown myself till stupid stupor,
Took a lunatic from use, to boons,
For all that I had robbed of archer's grace; I lost her.
In Artemis' wake, my mental mobsters roster
Finds a mission.
Missed the mark, and now
I wait.
Until the day, the final thread, that I don't wake,
I swear to all who, yet, may care:
I will not make the same mistakes.
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