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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