And, in the end, I say, “Enough”
And turn to walk away,
But, having spoken so much guff,
There’s still a price to pay:
I’m wrestled to the ground by shame
And kicked about the head;
There being no one round to blame,
I blame myself, instead;
And, through the needle-jabbing night,
I weep as one who mourns
To see my future – once so bright! –
Impaled on sorrow‘s horns.
And none of this would I need do
Had I not lost my heart on you.
Photo by Marek Studzinski on Unsplash
Grief
