Over where will I walk?
The old dog was right.
Like a pig on a spit,
was the likelihood of my ruin.

In a roundabout way,
I was preached to.
More visible though
Might the gem have been.
If in current-less stream the torrent came.

Lesser of love I receive!
Corrupted consequently my outlook

How wrong must I have been?
Used though, choices I made.
Without, today, I would not be what I am.

Mercy! Mercy!
A semblance of grace must be shown.

As blade be drawn and smile emerge
The flick of wrist is seen
The die were cast many decades ago
The instinct was grown in earliest year

Encroach not near, my flesh in fear
Waves are raised and follicles stiff
But metal meet flesh
In swift angled motion
No sound but the intake of breath

New orifice created!
Merlot does it spit!
Vendor bent double in pain

Clean up the puddle
Someone may slip
The mingle of wines is uncouth
Repulsive and wicked

Each hour is routine dreary!
Each tick signals the next tock
Forehead on the table
As if on the chopping block

The mice without their tails!
Are groped by grubby hand
Whilst pen and quill cry in cup
Unused refused and trampled down

But Oh! Beyond the window
But what is that I see?
Perfection in its finery
And she is beckoning for me

Avast! And don’t be sullied  
The dream is not for real!
This boy is in a daydream
Calloused from reality

For occupation is a tid bit boring
But hope is in the people
And love is out beyond four walls
Beyond few more hours to endure