7 January 1999
Anonymous

I survive the repition
-What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger-
But I feel part of the soul die
Revolted by you, not I
And yet something held far away
Is the essential part of me.

Living within my mild form of torture
A previous life punishment
Disturbs the midnight reverie.
The bars on my cage of regret
Censor the relief which
Is sought permanent
But is never really found.

Blame is on the nameless
Quite obviously shameless
And unrightfully painless
But who is,
No doubt,
Much less.

Excuses made,
But rarely given.
Try to protect the guilty
Because no-one is innocent.
Another trait stolen long ago
From naivety.

Each syllable is tedious
Am I on the verge of tears?
I wonder who really hears
As I know the one that jeers
Delves to sarcasm once again.

Salvation awaits
The desicion I’ve not yet made
But which should come soon enough
As I prove the advancement
That others shall not find.