Pain #2
RSD
Pain,pain, always the same,
A sea of despair rages
against the coming of the night
Daily, hourly always a fight
for such a desperate plight.
a wingless eagle without flight.
Despair anchors deep.
To unfold in riches of Gold
is beyond my grasp,
So I am told.
In the streams of my dreams,
I strive by seconds or
so it seems.
To escape this imperial fire,
for this single moment,
it is my greatest desire.
I am soul weary of flaccid platitude
an ambiguous foe to the greatest of minds
perplex and slow their sincerest gratitude.
I walk on.
© 2009 Michael Achilles