Misfortune can happen in the briefest of consequences,
Comparable duration to the twinkle of an eye,
Causing my singularity to be ripped asunder,
The firmament above plummeted from the sky.
In one singular foolish moment, I’d composed,
A hollow tune from my blackness and despair,
That unique composition was followed alas,
Even more, without rhyme, reason or care.
Oh jagged knife that is my days,
Plunge not your blade upwards to the hilt,
Show mercy and kindness yet on my soul,
Before mine own life doth wilt.
If elder days these eyes never witness,
So I’m forced to crane my neck behind,
Then show at least this weary traveller,
What may have been insight to find.
I know not why life's moments have failed me,
If it were possible for my clock to run back,
I’d be able to see my waywardness,
Then, use better, life's winds to tack.
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