A chorus of chords encircle this neck,
a noose tightening in its slack.
Each new burden leaving one a wreck
makes one wish badly to go back.
Decisions made, no consequence thought,
haunt more with each passing day.
Never the foresight of what may be wrought
assuming decisions naught go one's way.
clicking one's tongue with nervous manner
as judgment unrelentingly awaits.
Feeble in arms, one raises the banner
of anarchy driven, chaotic fates.
How did I do?
Comments
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Amazing
The last two lines of this resonate with a haunting tenor
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