Lamentations

My first blank verse since "Mother". I don't much like blank verse but I think this is my best blank verse poem. That doesn't prevent it from being shit though, because I suck at writing blank verse. And likewise, the fact that it is shit doesn't preclude it from being posted on a public platform.

The grass is greener on the other side,
Or so the wizened men of yore did say,
And often times I'm left to wonder which,
Side I'd choose had it been my call to make.
Would I remain on this barren field where
The seedlings of joy can never bear fruit?
Consoled by reaping of talent, of thought,
Of rationale, of question? Or would I,
In a trice, be rid of these faculties,
And choose to walk through the valley of green?

There may be justice in this for my line,
Who seem to start at this quirk they've set forth
But there's balance in that disappointment;
I feel it stronger than they ever could.
To smile, to have, to not want, or to fly,
Alas! Couldn't He have chosen some other beings?
Couldn't I enter mortality elsewhere?
Or couldn't I have been blessed with that envied
Contentment which others seem to receive
With such ease? My Lord, He has tainted me.

But He didn't stop there; my exclusion
From the ways of dice hurts me everyday.
Yes, one makes one's own, but to what degree?
Who ever triumphed sans that one favored roll?
In creation, in sustenance, in form,
In time, in setting, in but everything
I defy the laws that the learned men
Framed, improbable to be doubted; yet
Here I stand. Born without a chance to throw
My pair nor earn that chance with passing time.

And why must I carry that extra part
Which I believe I can find no use for?;
I've ne'er been where those that peer around
Me have. Never been weakened by her sight,
Nor her taste, nor that other God's arrows
E'er landed in this tainted soil of black.
I can't feel his lack or that other's want
But only those which are my own do I
Dwell upon, and only that which garners
My unhid gain, my laid-bare profit, do
I consume my mind with. No, there's no use.

In the end, I arrive where I started
Another imperfect circle drawn to
Perfection. Was I cast with the same hands
That did make these singsong faces and these
Human hearts? Did the self-same mind that did
Construe the beauty of winter and the
Wisdom of life create this tainted being
To play a role among roles on this stage?
Never can I feel, nor e'er can I choose,
Like ne'er can I e'er, solve His cruel ruse.