Oh, wicked Wind! Why must ye blow
All these Sorrows upon my Soul?
Which hurt much worse than you may know
And take, they will, their taxing toll
Leave me sickened, stricken- ill inside!
Dragging me under these tiresome Tides
Of heavy holds and dying brides
(In Holes of Haste my Time resides)
Allow me, please, to begin again
And bid farewell to another End
So new; so free- a better me!
Thank you, Lord; Amen
*Breeze contest entry