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Rife
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New Stuff I feel as if my heart is burning.
On fire with the sadness and strife of this existence I’ve been bestowed upon.
My soul chained with unimaginable weights,
a burden that holds me back from experiencing the joy and love
that this life may have to offer me.
A fool pillaging his life for an answer, and an inkling of light.
Deep lies my woe and discontent for this world.
The ignorance and the injustice.
The bloody hands with which my ambition is laid to rest.
A desperate cry for help is accompanied by an angry burst thrown at a whining child.
Why cannot my sorrow be understood and cherished
so that it can blossom
into freedom from agony?
Why does this sadness sow the fertility of my mind, reap only trial and tribulation?
Any revolt against this miserable existence,
any seed of hope,
lies jettisoned and abandoned.
Forever must this sullen void fill my mundane lie?
