Macabre Are My Verses Poem by Thea Pound

Macabre are my verses;
Have you ever wondered why,
I always speak of heurses,
And those destined to die?

For I must notice - surely -
The world is full of wonder;
The sun is shining purely,
Yet I see only thunder.

Have I never known the feeling,
Of love in all its forms?
I've been out all alone,
Since the cold day I was born.

Is there not some candle,
Casting light upon my soul?
I was born from shadows,
And darkness makes me whole.

Why don't I seek a saviour,
To heal and make me pure?
You see, it would be wasted,
On one who seeks no cure.

Can't I a smell a summer rose,
Or gaze at butterflies?
Decay wafts around my nose,
Since the maggots ate my eyes.

Macabre are my verses,
Because my life is such;
Written to be curses...
...Don't think on that too much.