448800
16
my muse
arguably is liken to engaging in
a match of tug of war against the wind
going for broke seeking not to get pulled in
to the muddy pit doing all I can to win
bearing down against my opponents gale
flexing muscle and strength effortlessly
dragging me into the perilous pitfall
I anchor these feet allowing the struggle
to weigh on me like a ton of scattered
stone of a fallen wall that once fell
rising from the heap dusting off
the sleep this clash of tribulations
compared and bound to more of
a unsound point of direction it's all
ridiculously maddening to speculate
ones oppositions none other than
yours truly
