
I try, I try!
Without a cry
My knees tremble,
yet I tread.
My hands bruise,
yet I do.
My breath stops,
yet I race.
My jar of tolerance,
runs dangerously low.
Each pellet,
a bullet shot at my brain.
The tranquilizers have lost their way,
in some dreary desert of woe,
where all that is found is lost, slow.
A knot of thread around my heart,
threatens to strangle the soul.
Conscience is a traitor in this world,
where all that is earned is sold.
A blink of an eye,
will shut the commotion,
but only for a second or two.
The effort is too great a burden,
Again and again, I try
to escape the cage of intricate threads,
only to fall on my face again,
with a deafening thud,
of dark disappointment.
