Wednesday, November 24, 2010

The Anvil of Existence

Like an anvil
Hammered by the smith
My world is iron
And I am tempered
By the fires
Of existence
And the miseries
Of this life
And desire
Are pounded
Upon my body
Until gone
My journey is long
My path is hard
And I am tossed
To the elements
To my detriment
I am broken
But continue
My decadent decay
Begins quickly
While I am crushed
For the world’s pleasure
Walking upon the surface
Of this spinning globe
I lose my balance
When all I believe
Is cast away
And I am left nude
To this world
Covered only in doubt
And I have nothing
To deflect
The abject misery
Poured upon me
By those who stand
Mocking me
Mocking my being
This flawed flesh
They cannot help
They hate me
But do not know me
Only my form bent
By fear and loathing
Misery and mockery
Where I am cast
Upon this globe
To breathe