Woe, my worthless self.
Woe, thy present distress,
Woe, thy miserable fact,
That thou knit in the past.
Woe, thy hunger to accomplish,
Thy enthusiasm to will and be,
Blame thyself of short efforts,
Of a selfish desire that matters.
Woe, for thou, as a selfish being,
Living a lie, without seeing,
Further than a wish, a dream.
Wishing upon a sun,
that'll never rise,
Or,
Beam.