Life ‘ In Extremis’

When sorrow profound strikes an author’s heart
And joy eludes his life throughout for long;
No more roads is left for his crippled art,
Leaving him poor, diseased, in utter debt!
Though history’s full of real examples,
Of authors talented, yet struggling hard;
Unable to make both ends meet,
Quaffing cheap spirits with anguished minds;
Reaching ledges for a final fall!
“Oh, cruel Nature! Oh, deaf /mute God!
Why hast Thou forsaken me?
Could not my cup of woes, less bitter be? ”
Crestfallen, frustrated, in despair ’yond compare,
The author raises a glass of hemlock to his lips,
To drain the poison down his throat,
To breathe his last, yet wears a smile so brave!
“I’ve wrung my heart off all its blood so dry;
I’ve sweated blood when others slept in sex;
What could I do if luck didn’t smile my way?
Let people say whatever they must say!
I did great things that people rarely do! ”
With mind afilled with such thoughts,
The dejected soul commits SUICIDE!