My Personal Hell - Poem by Tony Phung
As I sit by desk at night, waiting for the day's respite from my internal hell.
I feel my bosom swell, not with elation, but frustration for no longer I feel well.
The fires within not burning, have stopped their yearning for life.
Where emotions were churning, I am learning, are replaced with strife.
The fires are not burning, they have stopped their yearning for life
In the barren desert hell that in my bosom dwells.
In isoslation, I dwell, wondering if the desolation impels
My heart to swell with sorrow not joy and anger aswell
I sit and contemplate, alone in self-debate
I feel the weight of the sorrow press upon my brow
But no hope comes from the morrow, I want respite now
No hope comes from the morrow, I NEED respite NOW
From the crushingly heavy hell that in my bosom dwells.
The loneliness leaves me frustrated
Nothing can placate it
Its hunger cannot be sated
I want relief, For this nightmare to be brief
Comfort is what I seek, But the outlook is bleak
For the illness it seeps, And leaves me weak
The outlook is bleek and the illness leaves me week
In my decrepid, diseased hell that in my bosom dwells
I sit in the dark of night, a heartful of spite
Admist a throng yet no friend can right this wrong
Its might is too strong
No love can fight this hatred, nothing is sacred
It drowns love in spite
No faith can bring light for faith is swallowed in the night
Love drowns in spite and faith is swallowed by the night
In this empty, hollow hell that in my bosom dwells
No amount of wealth can improve my health
For I am by myself
I fight back in vain, my efforts swept aside
Like tears in the rain
I try to keep sane, but with nobody to confide
I snap under the strain
I walk the earth alone my world as bare as bones
As endless as the isoslated hell that in my bosom dwells.
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