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Updated: Oct 27, 2021

Let this at last

Be in the past

It was unbeknownst

To me, it bears my angst.

Your claim to fame

Has brought shame

Finally engendered to tame

Your mind games.

Well hidden

In the lane

It had lain

Supple turn to bane.

It was so insane

That it stayed supine

But, when faced with unease

Your voice seized.

Chills on the bridge of your nose

A touch of warmth! Who knows?

The comfort on the cold floor

Alas, you turned the king without a roar.

Your moan died at birth

In the icicles of death

In your dried throat

It died without a note.

All this had put paid

To my pain unearthed

Your ghostly self-worth

I must now mourn without aid.

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