One may as well play a victim,
lone persona being wronged
When choices were always open
...
All beyond improbable
is nearly in final stage
For rigors of the labor
...
One of desolate moments
sans anything going right
Game all set for match
...
Slow but sure turning
cycle of life is in view
Fixing a few oddities
...
One’s living is akin to
a book off the rack
...
Often talked of in bygone
a feel is being returned
Opponents honing rapiers
...
Paths you venture on
are yours to contend
Be easiest of passage
...
Haze would finally scatter
for light again to gleam
Like stirring from stupor
...
All deluding visions
impact those portend
To be dealt personally
...
Often dubbed dreamer
to illusions since belong
An escape from reality
...