Oh! is woe the only thing that may be
Plaguing my ambitious mentality;
The sore reminders of a tiresome day’s toil
Yield no profits from the unforgiving soil.
Come off it, man; tomorrow’s another day,
Yet the shallow words are what they are
And though the outsiders may mean what they say
The admonishment only sears the scar.
Though mind and matter may persist
Life’s sentinels patrol the proving grounds,
Hungering to slay any dreams around,
For it seems that is their sole reason to exist.
Spare me, oh relentless foe,
You cursed harbinger of misery;
You gorge yourself rotten of my much-deserved bliss,
Further widening the ever-present injury.
Fear not wearisome self for the bandage
Of a sangfroid mind can breed a bout of courage.