Fate's Tragedy Poem by Timothy Long

There have been many tragedy's but no more so than mine, the complex of my dreams are of a compulsive nature sexual or not, not as grand as once believe as a struggle truly, the richness is forced, but so if been feared rather than loved, do all lose our humanity, is madness inherited? Or is everyone a genius? Why is a tragedy limited? Does the audience see what I see, the flaw is by a far cry, for the fear of leaving, honor means nothing without love, discovering something elegant could bring the end, why are some things perceived as so, is that why things be the differ, maybe just maybe as the Gods see fit, to remind us limits keep us grounded, things change as life imparts its hardness on us all, of the world is all of man's struggles a mans voice or reason tells him of nature and life, what is a man capable of accomplishing his fall of death? Maybe of conscience, use words rightly as they are as powerfully as a man makes them, get your own life before its said, the labor a working man does is his as is exist to disappear, fate shouldn't be countered like destiny, if everything is falling away, maybe committing suicide won't be so bad anyway, shame appears for tears, life rose but sadid death, against the odds goop thinking won't save me so, you will say I'm a comedy, when really I'm a tragedy, I'm wasted out, now it is I by bumrh of my own to die with no goodbye, faded, a way of escape suppose my souls expressed away.