1 March 2013
My vision blurs to see the crown broken,
Trampled when it had once been raised.
The past is dead, so declares this token.
Still I cannot move, lost, blurred, dazed.
Some hope flutters, but then it drowns.
My head smarts where it hit the roof:
My limit, a bit above my crown.
Best to quit now. Need I more proof?
I'm past my zenith, I do confess,
And to work hard means not always success.
Peaked • Opuss № I