Only ( I) Do I Truly Hate

MYSELF IS JUST DEAD THERE ARE NO BEAUTY IN THY HEAD CITYBOUND TO AN OAK TREE WEAK THIS POET IS ALONE AND IS THOUGH QUITE MEEK NO ONE IS AROUND TO BE REJOICING SO LOUD A SOUND IT IS MY FATE TO SLEEP WITHOUT WAKING UP AGAIN THE BIRD UP BEYOND THE BLUEST SKY SHE SOARS WITHOUT SORROW NOR YEARNING BABE MIGHT CRY PAUPER MIKE CANNOT SEE RELEASE IF ONLY FOR AN INSTANT TO BRING ONE TOTAL PEACE WHO WILL TAKE A GUN IN THY HAND SHOOT THE RABBIT AS HE DRIFTS INWARD DOWN THE MOCKING SAND FOOL LIKE ME THAT CANNOT JOY FOR I AM YOUR UNHAPPY LITTLE BOY MATES FLOCK TO KISS EACH MOUTH THE NORTH IS TOO COLD SO MY FEET WILL HEAD SOUTH only I do truly hate the end is now there is no escape