In the crinkled chapters of my past, I sometimes unearth my solicitude, Tangled in the cobwebs of reflection, I reason my perennial solitude. Reminiscing the diabolic chapters of my yore, In grief I trudge through my present being, Incapable of bypassing history, I am stuck in an unceasing cycle of self-pitying. With severed intrepidity I subsist, My "amour-propre" is in shambles, Awaiting emancipation, I wait on cadavers of all lost battles. This sorrowfulness is beyond my fortitude, The suffering I can take no more, The memories of my slaughtered past mauls me, I yearn for this turmoil to cure!
