Everyday, you visit me,
to set fire in my nerves,
fill me with spasms,
and assault my viability,
that is my life you know,
your control over me,
brings me to despair at times,
you limit my activity,
my life, my time,
every day defined at your clock,
and its not fine with me,
my life though cracked n' bruised,
there is some fight, still left in me,
it's a crusade for you,
my activity limited,
time robbed, much taken from thee,
but my life's still worth living,
and I still have my faith in me,
Materials, I do digress,
matter very little,
when your life's in a physical mess,
and pain, is all that's seen.
Someday the pain will be over,
and the maker I will see!
Razorblade © 2011
© Copyright 2016 RazorBlade. All rights reserved.
Poem / True Confessions
Poem / War and Military
Poem / Poetry
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