Broken Man

I am a broken man, close to the end
Of all things: of my day, my life, my rope,
Free from an untold mass of chains -- from hope,
From fear, from light, from every erstwhile friend
Who succoured me before now. I intend
No harm, no good. If I can only cope
Until my ex has had time to elope
With her ex-priest, my wounded heart will mend.

If this state is rock-bottom, I'm surprised
It isn't worse. Sure, it's unpleasant here,
But certain ancient fogs begin to clear.
It turns out much of what we had surmised
Was crazy. I've been over-analyzed:
I am a broken man, and free from fear.