Deep-Rooted Sadness

I am the perpetrator of tomorrow,
Traitor to the present,
Imprisoned in the past,
The essence is diluted...polluted.

The hands that tremble in desolation,
The eyes that mirror desperation,
Belong to me,
Yet, I am a stranger to them,
The recognition is slow,
Several life times I have fought,
This melancholy bravely... cowardly,
I must have,
A strong enemy such as this deep-rooted sadness,
Cannot be slain by a fragile mind,
The grave has been dug many times,
I have even said my prayers,
The tomb stone reads,
‘Here rest the damned,
The unloved, who haven’t made their peace ’,
I laugh; God’s great creation is a graveyard then,
Home to us immortals,
Wounded, hurt, afflicted,
The living-dead,
Not a hint of bravery,
Just an easy acceptance of this deep-rooted sadness.