Mark Woelkers

Fleeting joy
A constant sorrow
Fleeting hope
A dark tomorrow
...

One up so high
The distant master of its host
The other at the core of my being
Fixated on what compels most
...

Privilege
Are you my plague?
What deprives me of sleep
Of sanity
...

My heart has been stricken
By the most bitter cold of all
The grief of acceptance
That she'd never take the fall
...