Damned! Damned am I, flesh and soul alike.
Where thy to search heaven, hell or the mortal coil in between,
Thou shalt never find a creature more unlucky than I.
Would some passing stranger spit and speak my name,
Whether it was to thee or just in passing randomness,
No choice would ye have but to flee,
Running no doubt to the nearest clegryman,
And pray that the evil eye,
Which lingers and follows me every place I go,
Would perchance have a moment of deafness
And pass thine mortal soul over.
Hate me the Fates must.
For they cackle and gloat at the bitter wind that
Hath been persuaded to push my spirit along in this world.
Sisters three they mock me in my short existence.
They conspire to take mine love and drive,
Between the object and mine affection,
A gorge, a massive canyon that swallows up sky
And darkens the land around it.
Were I to attempt to cross this valley,
This rend and rift torn betwixt us,
I hold no doubt that I would be confused,
Perplexed and bemuddled by fog and darkness,
And turned around in my steps,
So that despite long journey and much heartache,
I would end up merely steps from whence I first began.
But fear not, gentle soul, kind Adonis,
Tis neither your love nor our love
That is cursed and bespelled.
It is only my love that falls under
The gods' merciless and mocking gaze.
And near despair I come whenst I remember
That thou are not my first love.
Nor do I hold any hope that though might be my last,
My final that I might live to old age with.
Nay, despair holds my heart in its firm grasp when,
Reminded of these facts, these former and future loves,
I have no choice but to grow to the conclusion
That Fate and Fates alike conspire still to use me,
To make me run their race,
To test the strengths and boundaries of mine heart,
To pile on me weights and chains,
To make, to determine, just how much I might be able to bear.
But again I tell thee: Fear not.
Once they purpose is done and my heart lay broken,
My soul shattered and bare for all to see,
Or none to take notice of,
Thou will be freed and free to go thine separate way.
Freedom awaits you at the end of this task
For in this plot you have but a small part to play
A mere moment on stage.
Fear not for me and linger not near me.
Should the audience of this dread play,
The writers of this wretched scene,
Determine that most amusing is our intercourse,
Decide that most entertaining and lively the script between us,
They might conspire more and deliberate much
And come to the conclusion that more from you is needed.
They might change your fate to follow mine
And lock you in this never-ending circle of sorrow and loss.
Therein, when thy charge is complete
And the curtain falls on our act,
Linger not to view the rest of my disaster,
My life that be so full of pain,
But instead rush home to safety and warmth,
With the sound of applause in your ears,
And take comfort in the arms of another.
Think no more of me and speak not my name.
Should Chance, another fickle creature,
To who's purpose I am often twisted,
Make us meet or pass upon the street,
Do not wave nor greet me.
For such an act of kindness, politeness,
Or perhaps simply recognition for days long past,
Would only serve to break my heart and tear the wound anew.
I, calling to the human that lay at your heart and soul,
Beseech, adjure, petition, and implore thee
To forget me, to remember me not and think of me never.
A creature of solitude I was born
And so solitary I shall remain
Until the day creatures, of better grace than the Fates
Should so desire to set me free of this trap,
To dim the lights on my monologue of dissolution;
A day that I do not hold my breath for
But desire and wait for all the same.
Where thy to search heaven, hell or the mortal coil in between,
Thou shalt never find a creature more unlucky than I.
Would some passing stranger spit and speak my name,
Whether it was to thee or just in passing randomness,
No choice would ye have but to flee,
Running no doubt to the nearest clegryman,
And pray that the evil eye,
Which lingers and follows me every place I go,
Would perchance have a moment of deafness
And pass thine mortal soul over.
Hate me the Fates must.
For they cackle and gloat at the bitter wind that
Hath been persuaded to push my spirit along in this world.
Sisters three they mock me in my short existence.
They conspire to take mine love and drive,
Between the object and mine affection,
A gorge, a massive canyon that swallows up sky
And darkens the land around it.
Were I to attempt to cross this valley,
This rend and rift torn betwixt us,
I hold no doubt that I would be confused,
Perplexed and bemuddled by fog and darkness,
And turned around in my steps,
So that despite long journey and much heartache,
I would end up merely steps from whence I first began.
But fear not, gentle soul, kind Adonis,
Tis neither your love nor our love
That is cursed and bespelled.
It is only my love that falls under
The gods' merciless and mocking gaze.
And near despair I come whenst I remember
That thou are not my first love.
Nor do I hold any hope that though might be my last,
My final that I might live to old age with.
Nay, despair holds my heart in its firm grasp when,
Reminded of these facts, these former and future loves,
I have no choice but to grow to the conclusion
That Fate and Fates alike conspire still to use me,
To make me run their race,
To test the strengths and boundaries of mine heart,
To pile on me weights and chains,
To make, to determine, just how much I might be able to bear.
But again I tell thee: Fear not.
Once they purpose is done and my heart lay broken,
My soul shattered and bare for all to see,
Or none to take notice of,
Thou will be freed and free to go thine separate way.
Freedom awaits you at the end of this task
For in this plot you have but a small part to play
A mere moment on stage.
Fear not for me and linger not near me.
Should the audience of this dread play,
The writers of this wretched scene,
Determine that most amusing is our intercourse,
Decide that most entertaining and lively the script between us,
They might conspire more and deliberate much
And come to the conclusion that more from you is needed.
They might change your fate to follow mine
And lock you in this never-ending circle of sorrow and loss.
Therein, when thy charge is complete
And the curtain falls on our act,
Linger not to view the rest of my disaster,
My life that be so full of pain,
But instead rush home to safety and warmth,
With the sound of applause in your ears,
And take comfort in the arms of another.
Think no more of me and speak not my name.
Should Chance, another fickle creature,
To who's purpose I am often twisted,
Make us meet or pass upon the street,
Do not wave nor greet me.
For such an act of kindness, politeness,
Or perhaps simply recognition for days long past,
Would only serve to break my heart and tear the wound anew.
I, calling to the human that lay at your heart and soul,
Beseech, adjure, petition, and implore thee
To forget me, to remember me not and think of me never.
A creature of solitude I was born
And so solitary I shall remain
Until the day creatures, of better grace than the Fates
Should so desire to set me free of this trap,
To dim the lights on my monologue of dissolution;
A day that I do not hold my breath for
But desire and wait for all the same.
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