How old shall I be then?

a victor, placed

away than, farther on the Isle

than my friends, for

I shall have lost

Eternity by the slip of a hand,

the mere jerk of tears

falling silent as they are

manifestations of disquiet,

and turmoil in the heart

shows forth in rags

worn, self-imposed

humiliation at egregious failure.

Thus I shall have lost,

though victor of myself, somehow,

also my captor, also

my chain.