You are not wrong to be the victim.
A choice is not a choice,
If, let’s say, you choose badly
In country, roommate, husband, or wife.
How could you know what everything entailed?
We all are victims of life.
And if your lover, who now pretends to be the victim of you,
Even as they loved you over and over again,
Is now ashamed,
Well, that will happen. Everything will happen.
If we link hands with women and men,
Or smile at every child, we are traveling to eternity;
Eternity sounds like Emily,
A name who sounded like her poetry.
That’s why, as a victim, I cannot agree.
Nietzsche’s “eternal return” is proven wrong,
Since how will eternity eternally return
In one gesture, blood stream, or song?
No, even the lucky are victims of life,
Even if we find the secret—
A good job, a happy husband, a sexy wife.
If you get that, let me know;
We can make time stop for you, or go slow.
No. You, the victim, me, the victim, yes!
Let’s plant what we knew in what we know.
Correct. Who in the world dares confess
They knew? They did? They made their breath?
Who? Who steers their own ship, flying and sinking towards terrible death?