Aching Hearts

Black beads and crystals are

Flogging my brain with their claims

Their purpose irrelevant to mine

Distracts me from things on my list

Those things keeping me right

Those labors I believe in

The pang of pushing too hard brings on

Other needs,

Other sorrows,

Other worlds of existence.

I cannot go on

In this manner.

If not this path, then which?

If not my life, then whose?

If not this brain, then what piece of flesh

Rolled back to expose the fact

I cannot go on

This way.

Turn the wheel to another test

Close my eyes to another pest

Force the key into the broken box

And magnify the race.

Something must be done

Nothing must be sung

But lullabies for growing cries

And wails of aching hearts.

I cannot go on

Like this.