Details |
Rhyme
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This remorse is choking me to death,
taking away all the livable breath...
leaving guilt, anguish, and wrath:
am I another insane Macbeth?
If hours slowly pass making me restless,
and through rageful images
I despise when waking up with screams:
what's their symmetry to eternity?
Much worse are the innate dreams
never imagined having fragility!
There's a young storyteller with auburn curls
who comes from the medieval town of Arthun
narrating tragedies of inseparable lovers,
who died before their given time;
he sits on a bench of the small square
that depicts the sensuality of a nude siren
laying in the middle of a stone fountain
and spewing outflowing water, she entices sensuality!
I won't attempt to fling a silver dime
in its water showing an emotional valence,
but with prudence, I'll toss it gladly and gallantly!
Since I have no luck and an unpredictable future,
his tragedies seem sympathetic to an extent;
I won't be pierced by a blade to prove I'm faithful,
I won't lay in a tomb besides my adored lady...
the times of faithfulness have ceased to exist,
finding a true one among thousands of women who care
is such a rarety, they once were found in a monastery
and their desire was to be the bride of Christ,
and they always kept a holy image never being disgraceful!
If someone is being tormented by constant remorse
for a fault which wasn't his own attempt to contemplate revenge,
or the cruel intent of harming someone without a hint of knowledge,
then he should cleanse himself thoroughly of the false belief
and continue living without idiocy until he overcomes his grief,
not exiling himself on a deserted island and suffer the worse:
neither should I who has isolated himself and writes in pathetic rhyme
avoiding to compare himself to Othello who repented for his heinous crime!
Whom do I resemble most: Othello or Macbeth?
One had dark skin, the other had fair skin,
wasn't their vile character wrecked by sin?
They were murders stripped of moral and worth!
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