Untitled Poem

The days roll on so uselessly
And I can't find the point
Of carrying on so relentlessly
When nothing will anoint
The wounds of self-affliction,
This blood is my addiction,
These broken wings will never fly
So turns to dust the will to try.
Like sinew rotting in the dirt
and hearts displayed on stakes,
The wailing screams of silent hurt
Throb as my resting body shakes.
It pains me, consciousness,
That sanity won't leave,
And all these thoughts, so copious,
Are too heavy to relieve.
In this crimson sea of tears
I've been laid to bathe,
Drowning to exorcise these fears,
I burn, I rip, I scathe.
My voice is muted,
Prosecuted,
And crying in the corner I look up to see
That I may be stuck here for a while,
But your strong wings can carry me.
And so I sleep and see your smile,
Your eyes and beautiful face,
And my tensing muscles rile
As I begin to lose the race.
The eternity that is distance
Will not hold us forever,
And though there is little resistance,
It bans our being together.
This space is torture,
And I get no closure
When you tell me we’ll be fine,
But what else is there?
How can we bear
The wait and yearn to shine?