May Death Find Me Soon

May Death Find Me Soon                         September 4, 2013

The creeks have risen o‘er their muddy banks.

The frost a-bitten, and yet it is still September,

And there shall never be a return of a day with love

Which never existed, for it was all for wrought.

I thought of a time when I was five and very alive,

When I was innocent and the outlook good,

When all was serene and life was as it seemed,

When I needn’t worry about a chemist's flurry.. 

Alas! Today, I am an adult by age,

But in the eyes of The Sovereign, but a five yearling.

I have not one right about my soul on this night,

Not one, and you may hear me wail ad infinitum. 

May Death find me! O’ faithful Lord,

May Death find me soon! O’ Lord, may Death find me soon!

May Death find me soon or forever shall I swoon,

And be relegated to the role of Life’s Loon! 

I pray to Him nightly prior to my tortured slumbers

Of a permanent period of opaque peace broken only by Him,

Where I never have to awaken but to His beck and call,

And where the angels serenade me with trumpets of gold.

My sufferings are my fault, so those who know say,

And I must awaken to them at the break of each day.

Never will my lover be able to fathom my despair,

For upon her departure, my life was never again to be fair.

A love so epic, I desire to write it into lyrics,

But she will only abscond into absentia if I do, leaving me alone,

Left alone to wither away like a flower out of season,

To die a perennial season’s death, forever and on.

We shall only die in our own time so we read

In accordance to God and His Son, The King.

We are promised a place at His Table to break bread,

Yet never did I receive such in my mail while on the mend.

Another day of torture, yet another penny short,

And I? I am another mind, a body, a shell of wasted flesh,

Doomed to a life of peril with time flown by

As I see it be told on this day in another faux prayer.

Let it be! Let it be! O’ Lord! Please let it be!

Let it be that I never have to walk alone another day in tragedy!

I know of such a trait in my life as I have fallen far short,

For if one more egg cracks on this early morn sunrise,

I shall lament having never acted upon my better judgment:

To end my own sufferings, to preempt another December 21,

Another day where I must listen to The Rooster’s ominous crow.