Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25825682-20150514163459

(Note: I extended it from the first one, so I need to know if this is sucks like the first one or not). I

An autumn’s noon, in my loft cold and listless,

I lay cursing my eyes,

They are both wretched and pitiless.

Why did these visions become unearthed?

This curse is not mine alone.

It’s from my heritage,

So I can never atone.

I see a future that must be birthed.

When I was young my parents once said,

“It will be okay.”

How, I’ve seen them both dead?

With no guardian I feel little worth.

II

Leaving my house I try and cope,

But taking in the forlorn city,

There is little to no hope.

I pray these visions never come back.

Passing a couple sitting at the café,

Their shadows fighting,

What more can I say?

His shadow slays hers in jealous attack.

Passing them, a girl I used to adore.

Her shadow sliced its face,

In vanity I’m sure.

Recurring spite my eyes never lack.

III

These eyes conjure up rooted evil.

I wish for it to stop.

Can I remove this upheaval?

I can’t figure it out, I need this to mend.

Behind me an old man walks by,

He looks furrowed,

And nearly bone dry.

I saw his shadow feebly fend.

My shadow’s killing his.

I can’t believe it,

But, there it is.

I can't take it anymore, this curse must end. 