The Much Hated Poem

A life full of misery and woe,
has now become my greatest foe.
My soul has become contempt,
my love became inept.

Is love a tender thing?
Can it raise a servant to king?
Or does it prick like thorns,
and causes people like me to mourn?

these things I know not,
the answers I sought.
But I have yet to find them,
and wait for them, to condem.