It hurts to understand the notion,
you are free in ever motion.
I find fault in disillusion,
yet I fall,
and fall again.
Success is a driving,
flustering factor;
My life is hell without it.
Your ordeal I cannot reach,
nor analyze,
nor evaluate.
So I fall,
and fall again.
I'm not a lover anymore,
fighting is my mantra.
The energy I prosper in is of perpetual defense,
because of what I've done to myself.
Being a poet I should understand,
that I have problems as well as everyone else.
Yet I can't but help to let apathy,
possess me again,
and again.