The Fates

For the losers. For all who thought they won but lost. For myself.

***

There are three Fates, not only a single one

But they don't stand for the ones who won

Fates, the three of them, for the losers like me

They snap me out of dreams and make me see

Make me see, grief makes no sense to them

That of me, a loser, the world shall condemn

It's on me to stand to my fate, to write another 

Because if that's not done, no one will bother

Of course, except Fates themselves, no one will

Their crinkly hands to the blood wrenched quill

For writing me off the face of the world, for forever

Because, no one cares about a loser, they do never