With shackles of contention my hands are bound,
I wrench to unfetter; they dig in deep.
My thoughts meander and rove afar
In mayhem, pleading to be put to sleep.
This conflicting mind, it knows not where
These menacing thoughts will take it to.
Besieged and reducing, slow but sure
Into this infinite quagmire, of endless gloom.
In the cacophony of humanity’s strife,
Assurance was all that I did entreat.
Hitherto when I felt things looking up,
Did the ground reposition beneath my feet?
Resembling a bird, her wings brutally sheared,
Making a last endeavor to fly.
My endeavors they merely remained,
Futile endeavors, in a world of lies.