A Cipher I Wish To Become

I wish I was more of a fool, Whose only happiness is to make folly my desires; Nonsense to which I assented my ego, To err the only decency I fondled. I wish I was more of a coward, Whose only dismay is I myself being a hero; A morsel of gallantry is scattered, Losing the identity of a knight errant. I hate it when I become so enthused, With the thing most of the people hate; Or perhaps I am just so fond of pretensions, Candidly spoiling the inceptive of sanity. I hate it when the heart's debacle is unmasked, Becoming too mundane to obscure; Dragging me to the abyss of deception, Desperately seeking for my lost soul. What can I be to you? A scoundrel perhaps? A naught would be much appalling too; It gives me no option for bliss, Nor the dire longing for a kiss. I walk leaving with no trace. Head held up like a king with no crown; Wide enough my kingdom it may seem, My queen I lost, my treasure I wasted. How can I get up from below, Deserting the future it may offer; I can only do a little with what I have, Constantly waning from what is left inside. I wish of my own stupidity, bragging it loosely, Claiming my own ardor in disdain; The desolation was never in my mind, Until I lost my fervor, my amity, my love.