An Ode

You! Yes, You! Every artist's nightmare,
We run hither-thither the fear you bequeath,
A helpless, hapless beast into a snare,
Inevitable your grasp, Not one you spare,
Swell the pride of the phoenix-few,
Catch by the heel of the escaping flock,
Inherent misery, A dead sea beneath,
The pain, O sweet pain! The incredulous virgin,
Know not, just heard the veteran blue,
Know not will he till a good, fine day,
You grasp him with your steely fist,
And to his little child he says,
'Rough was the road that I trod!',
Glorify you, You shameless thief!
The wheels set in motion for the vicious circle!