Apology

I know not what to think of my own mind,
against my good and health it seems to work.

When seeing well, it often strikes me blind,
and makes me treat my friend as but a turk.

So many times an issue seems resolved,
and then solutions seem not to apply.

It brings in many things that aren't involved,
and sometimes makes me wish that I could die.

If I could but master mind and heart,
to make them work concordantly.

Then could I play the better part,
and live my life so joyfully.

Oh wretched mind, why dost thou so afflict,
to cause me pain and unending grief?

E'en when I strive to rule thee ever strict,
it seems that I will never have relief.

So forgive me friend that I so often wound,
I would not hurt the for the gold of Jove.

I hope that my bad parts still may be pruned,
and so be ever true to those I love.