Frustration Poem by Philip Lore

It is not eternally and completely wise,
To have constant, suspicious, watchful eyes.
I remain resigned with no consolation,
With consumate, callous, hidden frustration.

The ultimate liberation in my spirits well,
Is being consumed with dreams of this living hell.

Cardinal virtues, not such intensity,
To persevere with durability.

I will find my way,
With meaning, I will be whole,
Compassion, not hate, resting in my soul.

This will be my rightful ways,
Inevitable, quiet, peaceful days.
Never again to fell ashamed,
No more accountability,
No more blame.