Volatile (or Lifeline)

Lost and groping, wandering, 
Cordons of ephemeral embrace, 
Guide me not through mindless darkness, 
Choices made and sad disgrace. 
They know not what they do Lord! 
Fight the tide of rising pain, 
The black seething lake of darkness 
Still spouts dark and hurtful rain. 
Does it all spring from within or 
Do I blind myself, not cry, 
Or is it somehow not my fault? 
Can I console myself with thought?

Copyright 2001 Adam Lyons


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