There is a way that I wish that I could share
All of the words of my weariest of hearts.
I try, God knows I try, and it never works.
You could stamp the letter "A" on my forehead
For all of the angst that I hold, that never releases.
(The "Scarlet Letter" would have been much better.)
I watch the catharsis, suffer the hubris, live for the hammartia,
Never fully understanding what my place is, or is to be.
All I can see that fully lies before me
Are the same arcane lessons in futility.
In the waiting I find myself,
Though my life forever remains the same.
I live with the angst
Never offering any thanks.

02/11/2008

Author's Note: ... welcome to the twisted corners of my troubled mind.....

Posted on 09/18/2009
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