The Pits


Time ticks forward and pendulums swing.
Optimism’s great but doesn’t change a thing.
The future’s unknown, sleep’s for dreams.
Sometime clarity’s not what it seems.
*
Questions swirl in my tired head.
Respite unfound in my tousled bed.
Broken hearts we all have felt.
The gates of hell I have knelt.
*
My soul’s on fire, mind’s aflame.
Yet only I there is to blame.
Anger’s felt with nowhere to go.
My fists bleed my face does show.
*
Passion remains through good and bad.
Words arise, though sometime sad.

~*~
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