yabs

Within this deafening silence
Lies one so mournfully solitary
Saturated by sorrow
Yet unable to cry

Within this evening
Of sweat-drenched discomfort
And cold cold mornings
Of unbearable aches

Each day is an attempt at life
Mocked by a failure to truly live
A search so desperately needed
But limited by the chains that keep me bound

Do I smile at contentment
For the limits it deems acceptable?
Or spit in the face of fear and uncertainty
That petrify me to where I stand?

Can I bear to lose what I desire most?
From it's idealistic pedestal it shall fall
All hopes slapped with reality
The faintest memory wiped from my very mind...