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Poem

In response to Rudyard Kipling's poem, IF.


Unless I see the future of what is to become of me,
Unless I forget the past and think of the future;
I can make allowance for the life I am living now;
Unless I see the difference between life and death,
I can die now, or maybe tomorrow, or then,
Unless I forget about all the regrets I had accumulated,
Tomorrow I belong to a better place, I hope so too,
Unless I become fixated through the cause of being frustrated.

The whole sun and the crescent moon intermingle,
Unless the eclipse is totally out of control;
Tears fall, and keep falling unless I stop crying in vain,
The tragic scenes of life I created are not of use,
The dramatic events which I have composed, been tarnished;
The comical interludes which I had when being foolishly intoxicated,
The intermission between being alive and dead by an overdose,
Unless I forget all that was, my self-esteem shall become desolate.

Unless yesterday can brush away what had happened,
The scars of life shall command absolute and relative silence;
Leaving all the memories secluded with strong emptiness within,
Before I perish I need restoration unless the truth interferes,
I shall not be able to control my exhausted emotions,
In the hope that breathing fresh air, in depth, shall revive me,
I will wait for the dawn unless I should inherit Cassandra and die first,
Then forever I should be left alone, no remembrance of me, just happily free.

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