Fate

From assassins fleeing but finally spotted, One’s good image guarding and still it is blotted; An ill-omened murderous car Crushing one’s guiltless star! A team playing out its heart but lifting no trophy, Zero approbation bagging for one’s philanthropy; A last- round knockout receiving from a punch-drunk pugilist, God truthfully serving but still tagged an animist. Also, forever battling with recognition While not indifferent to its precondition Or, of a sudden, experiencing health issues After stepping into demanding shoes… The jaws of Devourer Fate Remain The Widest Gate: That which would storm one’s path And for days not important a bath.