If I could
I would have
Undoubtedly
Decapitated this
Irredeemable longing
In a gruesome manner
Long ago
But I've never been
The strong or potent one
Ever
And In the sunless hollows
Of my broken and
Flimsy bones
I still slip
Slivers of strangled hopes
which although
Have breathed their last
Seasons ago
Yet their charred remains
Sluggishly fuel
My painfully exhausted
And perplexed self
To keep on weaving listlessly
Porcelain skinned dreams
With trembling hands
And don a glowing countenance
When their shattered and
razor sharp edges
Inflict countless wounds
On every inch
Of my scarred flesh
And bleeds out
The residual drops
Of perseverence
From my essence
Leaving me to start
From scratch
Once again