AGES LOST*
Lest the time be berated,
More my days feel lost and mostly ill-fated,
Every-time I see time passing of times late,
These days- months- years are to me a period of time related,
The time I sleep seems is only my reprieve those dreams -good or -bad least out of my mind thankfully less bereaved,
So I suppose in this a time of suffered good deeds and of intentions,
Ill live pushing the pain far to the corners of my mind there so partitioned,
It locked in a vault of steely darkness chained within by my ever present crushing loathing of self,
Sunk deep in a sea of mine own despair at that great depth where all things cease and none living maybe left,
There at that time with that space do I try banish it and continue on with a life that feels only undeserved, with that I ask a last thing before I sign off tonight for bed....
Does this help anyone understand why I ask and want "Hugs" so badly?
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A Journey Of A Thousand Miles Begins With But One Step.
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