Movement, as if weighted in a quickly thickening mire
Pain so unrelenting, as if pierced with blades of fire
Snapping like a bass line in each gesture; in each breath
Whispering of days to come, more eminent than death
Tugging at the strings, further crippling the dance
Bleeding out chaotic rhythmic complication unromanced
Leaving me to wonder whether days like these will end
This lunacy of hope…is it real, or but pretend?
Wading through such torment, longing for the chance to smile
Hoping that each instance sweetly lingers yet a while
Adding laughter to the madness, leaching pleasure from the pain
In the knowledge that such sufferance was not survived in vain