Dear Misfortune

By nature's cruel design, I reflect
and lament at shadows unform
Lines that do not break, veins
Not protruding
Muscles, not boiling, nor to the surface rising
Venom, and fuel, not swarming
No evidence of life left in a machine
of insignificant evolutionary consequence
Along broad shoulders vent
A weakness that,
From the size of it, one could not predict
Nor to the futile retreating suburban objections
Could an ear be lent
But the machine at the pinnacle
At the top of it's design, in class
Through history, will moments pass unnoticed
Unreplicated, through chance
Of nurture's cruel design