The hours sprint by as though their only motive is to win cruelty's race,
I reside on my knees, in time's clutch of agony, always despairing at its pernicious pace,
Too fast, too soon does pain come to call at my ever-polite brain,
And my mind, once again, is the awkward host to the unwelcome guest, the uninvited disdain.

Here it is again, the frustrating refrain that permeates my days like the waves upon sand,
As fluid as those waves is my tired brain, yet parched remains my lonely hand,
With all I can muster, I shout at that shadow and beg that it would dissolve into the common darkness,
But despite all my efforts, that shadow returns to stifle my catharsis.

I don't pretend that better days won't come to visit me sometimes,
But I can't deny that without that shadow I would struggle to know life's rhymes,
And perhaps this is the price for a living soul to indulge in that which is real and true,
I won't run, I won't cower, and even if it means hurt, I will look you in the eye and I will see your value.