we set for life a minimum of hell that we'll allow <br />request of fate, post-dated guarantees <br />and retro-active second chances, <br />good for many years. <br />and for each bolted door, a set of keys. <br /> <br />we frame for life the circumstances <br />we would let occur. <br />accepting no misfortune willingly. <br />then cunningly convince ourselves we're able to ensure <br />against the careless whim of destiny. <br /> <br />until the day that fate in her beneficient caprice <br />awakens us from our mistaken views. <br />and briskly sends a consequence <br />with no apparent cause; <br />some sad disaster we would never choose. <br /> <br />then we wail against injustice, as we air our grand complaint <br />and fail to bear the burden quietly. <br />in our stupendous arrogance, we never question why; <br />but demand to know the answer to: <br />'why me? '.<br /><br />moon batchelder<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/why-me-22/
