sabbatica wrote:I was labeled a "genius": skipping class, I passed the tests, (Necronomicon sigils etched in the desks,) then my fiance killed herself; I studied immortality, forsaking all else, I waged a war on Death itself; trying to save people, earning their hate, I wondered, could I save even true love from that fate? I met thousands of women, some proclaimed themselves "slaves", but none could obey, they raced to their graves. In the library I spend the last of my days, tonight I lay in nature's embrace, killing time 'til time kills me, watching leaves wither, falling from the Tree.
They called me a genius, I skipped class, but passed tests
Necronomicon sigils etched in my desk
until my fiancée killed herself.
I studied mortality, forsaking all else.
The powers of death were soon overtaken
I tried saving people; instead earned their hate
Could even true love, I mused, be saved from that fate
I tried a thousand women; some professed themselves “slaves”
But none would obey, raced away to their graves
Here in my den, for the last of my days
I lay tonight in nature’s embrace
killing time 'til time kills me,
I watch leaves wither, then the tree.
This is how it might look as poetry. But as poetry the meter is badly distorted for the sake of the word count. Still, some good ideas.