Ten years on and the wheel goes round and round,
That is the cruel and only certainty,
For how much longer will it torture me?
How much longer will Fortune stay unfound?
And what of Love, she whom I would have crowned?
She is forever lost, and all I see
Ten years on, is the wheel go round and round,
That is the cruel and only certainty.
Whither lies this place for which I am bound
Where peaceful waters flow? O set me free!
So that in Deathís embrace at last Iíll be
At rest, lay my tired body in the ground,
Then Fortune will no longer stay unfound.
[Written for a competition.]
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