A Gift And A Curse Poem by Ros Venn

I
On the day that I was born,
I was gifted with this ability,
And a Curse, between them I am torn,
It is not for someone made of fragility,

II
Is it God I am meant to thank,
And the Devil I am meant to condemn,
For one gave me a Gift,
And the other made it a Curse,
Now it is here that I must be frank,
Both of these caused my life mayhem,

III
To hide this ability, I must wear a mask,
Day in and day out, I must wear a mask,
It drains the life from me. Why, you may ask?
It feeds on my soul. Why, you may ask?
To fit in and function, it is quite a task,
From day to day to live, it is quite a task.

IV
My worst enemy is my best friend,
Because it is me, and in the end,
Me, myself and I are all that exist,
It is this specific topic that I must persist,
When things go well, it is me who ruins it,
When things go swell, it is me who ruins it,


V
Every now and then, the mask wears thin,
My lifeforce is almost gone, I cannot win,
For when I die, I am reincarnated,
I rise from the ashes, I am disheartened,
This ability caused this process in loops,
Every day I jump through hoops.