I realized ...

I want to be a part of Life and I want Life to be a part of me.

Retribution ?

Wisps of the grave,
a life whose hope depraved,
sneaks up with the foulest smell,
Like the smell of fresh roses in hell.

Hope soars from an open cage,
wings flapping in wild rage,
crashing into a wall of glass,
the world beyond a distant mirage.

Ceaseless venom and banshee's wail,
a force misspent,
oh, what has it fetched you ?
this torrid lament!

When will this end ?
this bitterness, this hatred , this rant;
of a life chosen by one mercurial slant,
with an assumption so asinine.