In this barren wasteland
Absent of borders holding captive my disdain,
Twisted and torn between doubt and faith
My weary life remains.

Eternal bliss is as distant
From my empty, pleading cries
As the blazing sun within our skies,
Hovering over and around my stoic strife.

No love, no lover finds their paths ending at me.
Wicked, therefore, I must be.
Inconsistent moralities test deeply burrowed beliefs,
Stealing away my faith like a heartless thief.
My buried desires discover me unworthy.

Foreboding darkness filled with self-hate
Follows me, as such a deadly plague may,
Testament to its ominous presence,
Bound within lore,
Promised to me by an evil fate.


This barren wasteland of broken pledges breaks my spirit daily.




Worthless



Devastated


Sobbing and alone



Welcome to my world.


I, over which, release an agonizing and silenced moan.

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