Burdens of one, coming undone.
Turn of the screw; bang of the drum.
Patches on patches on patches on jeans
Finally worn beyond patchwork repair.
No one says nothing, for the longest time
But when they do,
When the silence breaks,
Noise is quiet and cruel;
Heartless, heartfelt; a heavy heart broken.
What to make of this all.
When choices no longer matter,
Steadiness of marching feet.
One after another, and another, and another.
Hell is here.
That was the theory.
If you make it through this one, doing well,
Heaven will be the reward.
Sucked into the abyss, no escape,
No passion, no matter, no decisions.
Time ages you in leaps and bounds
Rather than sweet delicate years.
What will be will be in the giant scheme.
We like ants, toiling.
Who is the giant who kicks over our hill;
Pours water on our world, sprays or traps us?
Burden unleashed, the tool.