Fatigue

In days of revolt

I too carried a torch

And swung at my arrows

But time is ruthless

And heals nothing

The shrieking ruin

Of a hard winter's kiss

Takes forever more summers

To mend

Now the snow just as might lay

Cloaking the remains

Shrouding the wounds

And sores

Of losses and fatigue

With pure, white

Amnesia

For what the sun uncovers

By its taunting rays

Are like swords to the lies

My life and dreams

However nightmarish

Are built upon

Rather it lay cold and dead

Than revealed in all

Its necrotic splendour

The price to pay

In facing failure