Woe of my soul,

You leave me alone.

Keep me in wonder

of your wretched disorder.

Sitting behind, you bite

and throw around all spite.

What enemy you are,

holding your mischief ajar.

Deprive me of you,

an absence long due.

I need not your presence

evil now commence;

Spirits help me curse

with storms of force

this pain on my back

the whips that do lash.

Gray be day's sky

when at last enemies die.

December 2000