The angel cloaked in orange against black,
one wing of blue, one wing of regal yellow,
found within my thoughts an errant slack
and showed me I was quite a wormish fellow.
Cowed by this epitome of truth,
yet confident I understood his words
I calmly erred again. “I erred forsooth!”
I cried, for all my work resembled curds.
I do not curse him blithely for the sorrow
Born of my own disregard for laws.
The test of my deceit will come tomorrow
where the mouth of pure destruction yaws.
For I can see my fate within the cards he
dealt to me, a fate far worse than death.
As I had erred, and shall err on the tome I
read but now, a worthless final breath;
I could have studied yesterday, perhaps
or further back, preparing for attempts
to put the words I carried in my trap
unto the page and give them proper tense.
You see, this is my final gleaming chance
to raise my feeble wit to bluest sky.
You’d think if I could dance a single dance
before the end, I’d have the guts to try.
I merely gorged myself on sweets and fruits,
ignored the sound of my impending doom.
I covered both my ears to stop its boots
from bringing me to harried work and gloom.
I see the flames the Underworld has wrought,
Old Scratch the dragon pounding with his fists
as I am lowered down. “Who would have thought
he’d wash up here but those who knew his cysts?
The people who could notice in his stride
the apathetic shuffle he appoints
could quickly see his fortune, and deride
his vacuous attempts to gain more points.
For time and time again, eschewing life,
he lost himself to flashing lights and vice,
so when the world came knocking with its strife
He’d plumb forgotten how to pay the price!”
For I pretend that I sit unadorned
and study as my memory goes flat.
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
I scorned my very mother doing that.
For this, and this alone, I send a prayer
to great Ganesha, writing’s rotund god,
that when I look to battles, I don’t glare
and find myself a right ungrateful sod.
An angel came and told me what was what
and let me change my ways in future time,
so with my changing mind, I offer but
the only thing I cannot botch up: rhyme.
Written by Squidmanescape