By John W.
Upon the qualification I did focus,
That some amends could never be made,
Trusting the ink of my list could vanish, hocus pocus
Leaving the atonement owed, a debt never paid.
Sure I had meant it when I said I was willing to go to any lengths – almost.
But what “rule,” oops what “suggestion,” had no exception?
All else I had done, to make “A List of All” harmed I was willing – almost.
But this person was different, the harm had been enhanced by their deception.
Betwixt I was, as upon “any lengths” no limits had been placed.
Sainthood had not been required, just a willingness to progress the aim.
Ever more attention did A List of All command, as around it I paced,
The hell of a relapse, of death, the price to indulge my lethal bane.
When at last I saw my uniqueness as fantasy, my solution to surrender.
Could “That” name be finally scribed and that step serenity render.
