A Gift Of Suffering

Counting the days in a darkened room,

Recalling memories filled with gloom;

In days of yore, he was once a groom,

Showered with blessings he rose in bloom;

Wither is he, who now waits for the day of doom.

Agony, the only comrade,

Dwells in his shade;

Quietly it whispers the living dead man,

'A Gift Of Suffering', he accepts like a 'yes-man'.

"O' solitude, a soul mate of the poor soul,

Fidus Achates of sorrow.

Let the fatal sisters take away my pain,

Or my mortality will be fulfilled", he cries in vain.