Child Of Sisyphus? Poem by Lynette Hazel

It's a bitter pill that rails and snakes and erodes from the inside,
Robs the ability to love, confidence, even hope.
Give me something to ease this pain,
shame,
burden,
guilt,
expectation.
That all their ill-wishes have come home to rest
Like the nightly roosting of things darker than night
That bear no name,
stay out of sight
Yet torment at the minute turn of a screw.
There's a foetid, fervent place within
Where nests Armageddon's fleet.
The battle rages to rob the genie of escape.
Night descends. Light retreats.
And all is splendoured in despair
which demands deed & title in this uncontested claim.

Why have I rather than another been visited by this plague?
I wish it to move on. Vehemently.
Or be destroyed utterly.
I know that, should I yield to the inpulse to run
There will be no stopping.
When land ends then will I run through sea,
See in its depths vile beauty.
An when sea empties into land again, I, like Prometheus bound
And with Sisyphean lament
Continue the escape attempt.