Eptiaph

Epitaph If ever the jigsaw stick by of my life Could give up been completed, A magnificent masterpiece would have resulted. But so most pieces were jammed By the inconsistencies and malaise inside me That they never harmoniously fitted to fallher. I was afraid to live, So the puzzle was just a myriad Of confused clinches and hopes unmet. I expected perfection from otherwise imperfect world And was deeply hurt and bewildered By the many facets of the inhumanity of man. though my potential was of an incomprehensible free-base level I was torture by too eminent expectations ...

And alarm of failure... Or was it fright of success? Regrets. If you want to get a full essay, gild it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com

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