Poetry Friday -- King Duncan

Who'd guess that I had so much blood in me,or that I would disdain a tourniquet?Out of the depths I cry, Lord, unto thee:Let this thing pass from me -- but not just yet.Who said that love is pleasure? Well, they lied.It's nothing but blood, toil, tears, and sweat.Myself I could not save, nor have I tried.Someday it has to end -- but not just yet.If this is love, who needs it? Not this boy.And