DANCING WITH A ROPE

A twig of smooth bamboo tug tips of my flowing hair.
Half way my leisurely walk, and in the open air
I break from the stroll; among bushes and hiding, I bitterly sob.
Regretting the manner in vain which I have wasted my life in an idle job;
I turn to the noose and drop; against the neck I fit a tight rope.
Caring less for longevity, wealth or youth
Alas! In a colorful dusk, I dangle free from a suitable length.
For ease, seek remedy for distress in death!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s