The note that read, "It isn't my cup of tea and it's too hard to shoot when made too blind to see. I couldn't make it. It fills them with hate and they never lend me ears when I prognosticate. They ripped my pockets for the things I never had. I was killed everyday and now killed to death. Thus death never killed me but welcomed me abode" It chiseled through my doggone heart when I read your death note.
SYNOPSIS This poem is nothing but the pain of a failure... Even if the protagonist knows the prophecy... his abilities and consequences of the step he is made to take.... He is pushed into that task for assured failure