Wrath of Happenstance

                                                                                I left the phone dangling off the hook

By those who once loved me, I am called a crook,

Ran back home and the doors were locked,

In search of their benevolence, I looked, I look.

Informed my dearest love of my return,

The loathing in her words, all I could discern,

They say love and flowers bloom when cherished,

I watered every day, yet not a sliver of concern.

Such lies the cruel circumstance,

Thusly charged is the scroll,

Whether by destiny or by happenstance,

I face the wrath of the heavens alone.