Why Me? Poem by moon batchelder

we set for life a minimum of hell that we'll allow
request of fate, post-dated guarantees
and retro-active second chances,
good for many years.
and for each bolted door, a set of keys.

we frame for life the circumstances
we would let occur.
accepting no misfortune willingly.
then cunningly convince ourselves we're able to ensure
against the careless whim of destiny.

until the day that fate in her beneficient caprice
awakens us from our mistaken views.
and briskly sends a consequence
with no apparent cause;
some sad disaster we would never choose.

then we wail against injustice, as we air our grand complaint
and fail to bear the burden quietly.
in our stupendous arrogance, we never question why;
but demand to know the answer to:
'why me? '.