In the
vast vacant spaces
in the
recesses of my mind
like
Sisyphus and his boulder --
to myself
have I been unkind
judged,
blamed, torn asunder
left my
heart wrecked in my wake
frenzied,
furious, fuming
no
breakthroughs did I make
into my
own soul oft so bemused,
battered,
beaten and bruised;
good
angels have I loved and left
their
giving grace have I confused.
Through a
rusty window, across a quaint bridge, I see an eloquent light;
Feelings
I can't believe overpower me, and
befuddled, flummoxed, I fight.
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