Exist?



An endless wrenching pain ignited by a life spent in vain. Selfish seas of guilt flood my troubled mind. If only time could heal I would stitch these wounds myself, but underneath the surface lay the fetid spores eager to consume my rotting mind. What is left in this world of pain beside material pleasures that no longer keep me sane. Blowing smoke in mirrors to divert my brain, all the while my spirit is being slain. With stoic face and apathetic heart I trudge through the barren landscape of wasted lives laced with tortured souls. Reality sinks in, I will never attain my goals.
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Submitted on May 12, 2012

Modified on March 05, 2023

31 sec read
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Quick analysis:

Scheme A
Characters 586
Words 105
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 1

Don Smith

Most my creative work stems from despair and was written during a time I was dealing with intense inner struggle. more…

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