As shadows cast upon his past,
He sat and wallow in his sorrow,
The blast of blows of his own show,
Uttering scolds, chilly and cold,
Be fold, behold, below the surface,
Beneath stresses he felt upon cold heart,
But as he ached and faced the reality.

For who to blame but his own deeds,
As he parlays a mess of self-pity,
Of secret thoughts on and about,
Of the time of his own desire,
Of the haste depart, in a cloud,
Of paranoid, distrust, and self-doubt!

Jieranai T. Maier

Copyright ©2003 Jieranai T Maier

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