At the Mercy of eleventh Hour

Tempted to be the apple of one's eye,
reach heights new and high.
Everyone urging to be the knight,
to fly like kite,embraced b golden light.

At the eleventh hour,perplexed was I,
shadowed in the dreadful eye.
Locked up in a fool's paradise,
thinking results to be the game of dice.

Did burn the midnight oil,
yet the outcomes lapsed into soil,
in leaps and bounds,
leaving behind in brutal wounds.

Friends had their own axe to grind,
left deserted was I,no roads to find,
mind totally null and void,
nobody,nothing to aid.

At the dead of night,
nightmare scare,no reason to fight,
apple of discord and bone of contention.
It was a reality of disillusion.

I do bear a grudge-
against the merciless fudge,
break the ice,boil imagination down.
Too late to achieve on own!