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