The past issues that I’d hoped had drifted away
Have become ever-present. I see my rescue
As a help and a danger to my very life.
Inundated in turmoil while head deep in strife,
There’s no point in my expressing my point of view.
All the ears that would listen have much more to say.
Doubt when dealing with others is all that I know.
Much mistrust and discouragement hijacks my heart.
I detest my naivety more than my world
That remains in its state as my life is unfurled.
Does it matter or not then if I do take part
In the chaos and turmoil and go with the flow?
Are dreams meant to be hopeless for some certain few
With flamboyant ambitions completely immersed
In the harsh sea entropic? The salt that I taste
Is of once started projects that have gone to waste.
Can I go on insisting that I have been cursed,
Or can I forgo rescue and start something new?