Such Obvious Structural Anarchy

God send me. God, my
Weapon of choice. Try
To find one better
Than, well, that letter
You could just erase

From the furrowed brow
Of your living clay.
Rabbi, save this day.
The end that we fear,
We fear is near. No,

My children, the end
Waits, and is patient.
Haste, and you will waste
Yourself and your chance
To wait for the dance.

The world won't grow old
Waiting for your youth.
Your youth will grow old
Waiting for the world
To end without you.

I'm wasting my breath.
I have three lines left.
One for you and one
For our daughter. Done?
Leave none, none unsealed.