The expectation of a world that forces me to feel,
Like medication on the wounds of battles from the past,
Through meditation on the hope that one day scars will heal,
To resignation of the fact that nothing good can last.

This hesitation in my mind of all that could go wrong,
In relegation of my dreams and hopes for days ahead,
This trepidation on each truth I've held inside so long,
Brings elevation of the fears locked deep within my head.

Through dedication to the wants of anyone but me,
Like desperation for the praise and pressure that I need,
The revelation of a life not lived as it should be,
Shows recognition of the time spent letting my heart bleed.

When flagellation of my soul at last comes to an end,
The desolation of my mind will surely take its hold,
That isolation of a life devoid of any friend,
An affirmation that the fire inside of me is cold.

With conjugation of my choices and the life I see,
Comes realisation that the road I walk is one I made,
An affectation for dramatic verse and poetry,
Just confirmation that my soul has been too long in shade.

Though condemnation of the past is bittersweet at best,
A retribution for a curse imposed upon myself,
This contemplation of the present ever seems to test;
The concentration on my future state of mind and health.

While recitation of these thoughts could be cause for concern,
Continuation of this written therapy is key,
Through repetition of these lines the pain will slowly burn,
And immolation of the past will someday set me free.