Voracious Discontent Poem by James Walter Orr

Consumed I am, and eaten by
My own voracious discontent.
My dreams have withered up to die
Where my tranquility was spent.

The balm of my own heart was used
To gain respite from life's decline,
When love's full power was abused
Upon the altar of my shrine.

When love, repulsed, the wounds still bear
That fester painfully for years,
Assuring tender hearts prepare
To hoard their store of painful fears.

I thought my love had cracked the shell,
Believed my lips had found the balm:
That confidence had come to dwell,
Delivering a fresh aplomb.

My strongest efforts were in vain.
My dreams have faded into air.
I’m tangled in a web of pain,
The product of my own despair.