The feeling is all too familiar
Like a slow-moving black mass, failure moves in.
There is no defense except massive action, but
Running in molasses is slow, hard, work.
Her looks of adoration have turned into contempt
Gentle touches all but gone
Lust has become dust
Replaced by worry and anxiety
The past taunts him
It mocks him
Never to let him be free
Poor life choices accumulate
Better days are gone leaving only
Broken pieces of hope here and there
Desperately the man stands
Stands in the storm that
Rages against him
From inside and out
Standing strong against the
Avalanche of consequences
As strong as a weak man can be
With so many fresh starts that now stagnate
The tsunami of life choices
Wash away inspiration
Creativity crushed and trodden
By mountains of debt and doubt
Dare he even imagine better times
When all attempts previous have been dashed
Abandoning all hope of ever changing his past
He steps forward the only way he knows how
One step at a time.
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