May your days be forever hateful

May your malice flow through pen

And allow all your pain passage

To the screening room

To the eyes of all of us apprentices

As you write of being alone

In a darkened apprehension

With heart, whose name you whisper,

"Broken," so softly, as if

You stand above its grave

And fear waking the dead

Aside- you are asleep

And need not remain silent

Nor deaf to all the shouts

Of the people in your room

Trying to get you up

From your coma, night terror,

Self contrived absence of light.

Your heart is not broken.

In fact, it needs a break.

The weight you put upon it

Is more than it can take.

I digress- may your days

Forever be hateful

And your nights filled

With the sweet fragrant perfumes

Of victory and love