Sunday, April 14, 2013

Archetypic gloom

An apology of a life, I lead,
Continuing to exist and to cede,
A sorry state of affairs present,
Elude, I need to, the inner torment.

A hollow body, soul buried,
The mind, with suffering harried,
Regrets prevail, infinitely many,
Squashed are hopes that rise, if any.