My keen starring at the past;
is quaking my dreams of the future,
and bleeding my eyes for the present.
A factitious beam appears from the face;
at the recall of many gone unsung paeans,
and in response to the threatening of fate.
No ado about anything!
The agitations from fate are more than enough to bear;
scaring away the relief of a fuzzy tomorrow,
stirring the fear of an already quaked dream!
That awaken the death of my calm starring;
opened up my mind to the shame of giving up,
which forced me to the service of action.
But my un-lucrative action brought meddlers with their feckless aid.
From them a blame of facetiousness raid.
Sending me to the adventure of a lugubrious qualm,
resulting the end a fatal lucrative harm;
as I'm left only with my bleeding eyes.
And no tears can the soul be lifted;
when fate is against.
