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Click hereCurse my stars and curse this self
for a life stowed away on the topmost shelf
and a mind that's sore oppressed
and curse cold Cupid's devil dart
that, safely lodged within my heart
turned a dagger in my breast.
Curse the sun and the saps of spring -
my lack of love is a hapless thing
that only gets my goat -
but most of all curse a mind still young:
its unfulfilled desires have strung
a noose around my throat.
I know just how you feel! If you could just take a bold step, in some direction, maybe the noose would loosen?
...to be true to yourself and fill your boots. I loved your poem.