It’s so hard

It’s so hard

The bard must’ve said –

I am sure I read –

When life holds no promise

Of emotion:

Just a cold thought,

Untaught and resigned,

And re-signed, like bad contract

Of awful unthoughtful relationship.

Passed like those boats rowed,

And arguably rowed,

In the night of light hates

And mad cruelties.

And so I have given up all hope

And have made my peace

With your universe.

And a piece of that mind

And that body I once owned –

Now well stolen –

Is trashed

Like binned memories

And language, shrift short.

And so I am bought and sold

And lost

At such cost.

I am alive and dead

And ready for you

To do your worst,

And – of course! – your best.

And so all I now ask

Is for you to properly task

The assassination awaiting me:

To finish with decent hitman

The quality joke played on me,

Which you have replayed

Over and over.

Another time,

Simple time, re-signed violent on your

Blood-flattered

Dotted line.

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