You
cause me so much pain,
Vile
bane of age
And
foe of innocence,
You
slave me to a curse
Of
limitations I can scarce abide.
What
once was snap
And
quickly cinched
Is
now a labor for the young
As
I need only wait and watch
As
though my hands were tied.
At
least my mind maintains its bloom,
Though
not as quick in raillery,
My
inner sage has lost its rage
In
favor of profundity.
But
Arthur and his cousins foul:
Tendon,
Bursa and Fasci,
Along
with their accomplices
Breed
deep and low and nasty.
I
yield not to this terrorist
Nor
any of his lot,
And
if the bane resides in pain,
I’ll
take all that he’s got.
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