Effortlessly Excruciating Poem by Rowan Welch

Have you known the best of me?
What lies beneath is constantly-
Receding from the Rowan Tree,
With roots that know not how to free-
The shadow there that bites you see,
And never tires to make you scream.

But silence tears what’s left of you,
It fills the air and makes you lose-
Your confidence so now your shrew-
Has left you there, scrying to-
The fire which you always knew-
Consumed and forced your life anew.

So be prepared, you panting dog,
That soon you won’t be drunk on grog,
But essentially your sweat and soud-
Created by how slow you mog-

Down the streets of oppositeville,
Stumbling, then, to take your pill-
Of ignorance, so you can feel-
Another day, another meal.

I swear this has been done before.
Have not I seen a chapter’s door-
Be closed, and opened several more,
Dictating life’s row toward the shore?

I think this ends another year.
At last I see and hear the fear-
Dissipate from ear to rear,
So only to know lessons clear.

For now I have another day-
To think of what I have, and maybe-
Join the forces that I craved-
To do my bidding, but now I say-
That life is not a game or dream,
It’s wonders and amazement seem-
To penetrate the ear’s regime,
And sire whomever’s listening.