This life of dampened poetry's
atrocious, slowly killing me;
a poison, psychologically.
I see my life as preciously
as any schoolboy prodigy.
Alas, the eyes of poetry
see beauty oh so dismally,
and absent from my memory
is all the joy that's come to me;
the blackened soul I've come to be
is drowning in insanity.
So in this life, my only plea's
please spare me from my vanity.