Aftermath

The waves of uncertainty have left their mark.
I now stand in the ruts of my alleged failures.
Lurking in the courtyard, past the
hydrangea white, I recline.
Smoking a rewrapped camel with no filter.
I do not want to post pone my demise.
 Oh, bring on those sinful vices, may they drip around .me like a swamp
Fetid breath of nature.
Take your aim at my swollen face.
At my forgotten virtues, and sullied life.
Once I aimed with the bow of fire.
So brightly did my hopes burn
But due to the misstep of a love ill intended, I now rot
Nay, I am carnage, to the game of love.
Never to raise up again.