Fate is a cold-hearted bitch
Pulling on strings that strangle hearts
Controlling our lives with an iron fist

Patience and Hope can’t measure up
To the callous decisions held in her darts
When she determines she’s had enough

She’s like a small boy tormenting a fly
With every turn cutting off wings
With little remorse the torture applied

She rains on us all, making worthy unjust
But her allure holds us captive despite the stings
In devastatingly beautiful passive trust

1 comment:

twenty(or)something said...

Nean: I love this poem. On more than one occasion I've wanted to curse fate out. Instead, I've chosen to direct these feelings towards the Universe, as you're well aware ;)

It feels like we're puppets sometimes, doesn't it? And it doesn't seem fair; in fact, it seems almost cruel that something should dictate our lives so. And you want to give Patience a go. And you try giving Hope a chance. But it all lies in Fate's hands.

Or does it. I think we control a large portion of our lives, it's just a matter of standing up to Fate and telling her we've had enough. We have to trust that Fate will guide us and do right by us, but sometimes, I think we need to play a little hardball as well.

And...Enough philosophy for one night. A stunning and beautiful poem, Nean. Thanks so much for sharing it!