Epilogue To The Man Who Lost

Disheveled dreams throw clear
a shrieking morning breaking scream,
as a cresting hatred brainwave
ravages downtrodden ragged shores,
reminding me of all that you were.

The man to see, the man to be,
a wishing well of ineptitude
far deeper than my own,
painted as the easy winner
as I wallow, magnanimous in defeat.

Desperation soon shook me,
tossing me from self exile
in the branches of my idiot tree,
where there was no way to see
the paths that lead to the truth.

Did I catch you unsuspecting
in your smug little game?
Then tip your hat in thanks
to the ascending, laughing demon,
as you pass him on your way to hell.

Caught within a mirror’s gaze,
eyes stare at a chasm of thought,
shining light into caves of hate,
breeding segments of one truth:
I congratulate you on your suicide.