Ticking Off the Seconds

Trying to recall any time at all
When I could see ends justify the means,

I'm forced to instigate, or at least, reitterate:
Anguish does not but break the slate it cleans

So wallowing in sorrow and counting on tomorrow
To bring a new beginning to my hell

I find that assertation of my current situation
Only ruins all my yesterdays as well

I seek to find and answer and destroy this horrid cancer
That eats my very soul through with its hate

But when I draw the curtain on a thing quite so uncertain
I find on stage that anger is my mate

For my heart was once beating for someone so surely cheating
My soul out of what it so richly deserved

And after careful observation of my current situation
I realised it was his mistress whom I served

So, keeping all in context and feeling more than perplexed
I told myself that all was well and good

For if I changed one iota, I would fall short of my quota
And just reward would be the reaper's hood