I blame my bouts of sheer despair,
My loss of love, of hope, of hair,
The vanishing of wife and child,
My garden growing thick and wild,
What happened to the Paraclete,
The riots on my city street,
The codicil by which a will
Excluded me, the dearth of krill,
The rise of each eccentric sect,
Upon my personal neglect.
Some live above, below the salt -
And this is also all my fault:
So curse me then, at dusk, at dawn,
Because, of course, I am unborn.