Sleep withholds from me its rest,
Loss' trophy of conquest.
Together they conspire
Causing mis'ry and mire,
To keep me from moving on,
Prisoner of tranquil calm.
Unable to move forward-
Time holds me still- a coward,
Like Atlas! He was sentenced
To pay forever, repentance.
Eternally forced to bear
The weight and pain and fear.
Seconds feel like hours past,
Yet this week still feels like last-
Trapped in Time I cannot hear
The words you offer in my ear-
Away from me they drift and fly
Drowned by Lament's silent cry.
So too my tongue cannot find
What it once would twist and wind
Unable to speak aloud,
My words have become enshroud
Muffled in a blanket, woven
To keep my words unspoken,
By the conspirators three
Who thrive and feed on mis'ry.
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