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This life of contingency,
Gambits, best guesses,
Relying on intuition,
Has left me drained, a chanceless beggar.
A contrite groan, unable to be stifled, escapes me.
Every breath is a disappointment.
Every love, a deliberate, descending walk into Maelstrom.
With deepest regret, I've found I've bet everything,
And I have nothing left to gamble.
In realization that this trick question has stumped me,
I concede and remain silent;
Every guess is wrong.
I look toward my intuition for comfort, meeting a wall.
Another turn of my head, another wall.
My head revolves until I'm sure,
With another contraction, my neck will break.
My last savior has eluded me.
A truth: I'm out of excuses.
I've no excuse to continue dreaming within a dream.
I can no longer stand by and wait for an imaginary absolution.
With this new, dismal realization, I am resolute.
If you should need an epitome,
Please stand in awe before this form,
This lifeless form..
That used to be a man!
This lifeless form..
That used to be me..
And even as the flames of Hell lick my soul,
As I face immolation,
I will not look to the skies for my family.
They, as is usual, will not be there.
I have no family.
To he who finds me in this gruesome state,
Or she, even,
My apologies.
For you, I have a word:
Remember.
I bequeath to you, this memory.
Hold onto it.
Struggle with it.
As I have struggled.
As I have suffered.
Comments (1 Comments)
- iiPeanut_Butter_Toast X3 - 12/13/2008
- this poem is gay! yash yew got a comment by a 14 yr old girl!!!! sh!tty boyy jk jk jk i joking.
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