Poetic Terrorist- flagrant Errorist!
While all I write feels meritless
And all I do seems perilous!
Chalk it up to being careless...
My Heart, my Mind- about to burst!
Born, was I, a Soul accursed...
A million wounds I have nursed
Still I feel always the worse
Send helicopters full of doctors-
Tell me, what is their diagnosis?
Oh! the Tests conclude I'm awkward!
(What a bleak and poor prognosis!)
*Old experimental piece