Resignation Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Now I know, that these flimsy hands
Do not make strong fables – only harsh make-believe
That no amount of words could render a savage soul docile,
No matter how prolix or great these words are, everything is futile
And so now, I raise my hand and admit defeat,

Underneath, there is a hallowed wreath of enraptured flowers,
But not for me, but for your brazen victory –
Take me: My soul, carnal flesh, fluid hands, blunted tongue,
Shattered hopes, faltered faith, tarnished eyes, lost feet of motion

Take them all, and leave nothing – I do not have constitution
But I do have a infinitesimal amount of strength left in my hands
To sign a resignation, an armistice –
And so I vie to die tonight, and never live for any other day

Where all your faces are fanciful and dandy while mine remains
Desolate and pastel-hued; I accept my defeat.