I am the tethered beaten soul

That Grief cares nothing for

I’m chained and lashed and

Tortured so…till blood no longer pours

Waiting for the pain to stop

I leave my body behind

The master will come again soon

And Grief will consume my mind

I am the weary, lifeless creature

Enslaved by the master named Grief

In darkened corner I hug the stone wall

For its cold and callous relief

Here no creature small or wretched

Dare cross my shadow’s path

They know the destructive outcome of his

Miserable, intolerable wrath

I am the tethered beaten soul

That Grief cares nothing for

I am chained and lashed and

Tortured so...till blood no longer pours

Sleep will not even grace me with

Her gentle, somber reprieve

Nor Laughter with His jovial

Playful ways and games of tease

The master Grief has stripped me bare

Of all that once was me

And left a shell of nothingness

For the sake of hearing my plea

So Grief and I will linger here

Till one or the other breaks

Grief may be the master

But I hold the key to both our fates.

Oakling

May 29, 2004