Sea foam green resting upon the pale moon’s face
Lies hidden among stunning stars
When you call out to the the Gods of Old
How were you to know
That they would answer.

Her whispers heard by many
As the Moon hangs high
That the vessel you have staked claim over
Deserves nothing

The voice that calls out
So comforting, and sweet
Though underneath is full
Of Lies and Deceit

Its source unknown
But the sound, like the wind
Crashes and distracts
As the pull is much stronger

Than your own free will.

Frail from the journey
Of burdens on the Soul
A veil of melancholy
Casts shadows on those,
Who appear to be
As strong as a mountain
But tremble from a domineering gaze?

This aching and
Frustration! To be
Better, to get Better.
How can I master the art
Of learning to love my own Confinement.