.

Might jaded be the cruelest of concepts,

The one that will allow no sleep at night,

The tormentor with its holy precepts

That only might possesses what is right?

How many are the fucking sad moments

When doubt intrudes on dreams with its moaning,

To tick like a clock with its arguments

That nothing's ever come from my groaning.

How to pray for relief when even faith

Allows no creed to say I'm good enough;

How to foster hope when my mind's a wraith –

Ghostly concepts smooth as a voice that's gruff.