My 'defeat' Poem by Hesbon Nyamweya

Defeat, my confidant defeat,
My best friend and companion,
The protector of my fears and attrition,
And empathiser of with my downfall,
You are fore bearing when the best I can do is to crawl,
You teach me fortitude when my plans stall,
Even in times when my headway progress hit the wall,
And I am held in abject and slavery thrall,
You open my mind to realise my pratfall,
For you defeat, my lovely fireball,
You have made me hold my guns for tomorrow's war.

Defeat, my defeat,
When my world's territory shrinks,
And my tears induces defamer's jinx,
You lay my soul in squishy minks.
When my throne sinks,
Followed by an intense ruefulness,
And constant bitterness caused by loneliness, bleakness and probable sickness,
You send my thoughts into meditational state,
Restructuring my tumbling fate,
And my wretched spirit you elate,
For you defeat, peace in my heart you opened the gate.

Defeat, my defeat,
When my days seems bleak,
With little hope to keep,
And my faint breath and limbs gets weak,
You give me myriads and umpteen reasons to live.
Through tears of other people's sorrows,
To the cry of waifs and vagabonds in the streets,
I now understand lack and embrace luck.
I am slow to anger and swiftly responds to other's hunger.
I can now embrace success and share abundance,
For it is your curtesy my defeat,
That I know the borderline between love and hate,
Immune to pretensions and affectionate to purity,
It is through you my defeat,
That I know the fruits of freedom and agony of prison so to espouse justice.

Defeat oh my defeat,
Make me wise to shun from deceit,
Hold my tongue so I can remain discreet,
When my wit becomes effete,
And my planned dreams I can't complete,
While my friends wash my face with their globules of contempt,
Shrinking my guts in a shaming fleet,
And my wings swings back in a subjugated retreat,
You become my oasis so my well won't run obsolete.
And I believe my short time-friend defeat,
That soon I will dine again with the elite.

Defeat, my Defeat,
When life strangle my breath away,
And my ways strides astray,
Hold my hands and lead me through the way,
Where my hopes and strength i won't betray,
Let my nerves not shiver in dismay,
And my impudent grit not decay,
For depression might turn me into a muddle fey.
When I can't pray, and become a victim of a laughing prey,
As my feeble body of clay,
Wither with grief, embarrassments each day,
Sail me safe to the peaceful bay,
So that restoration of glory I may.

***********END*******