Crushed, my youthful dreams are withered
By the unfeeling hands of Fate,
Which hold me fast within their grip
To test my mettle and my worth,
Squeezing desperation from my lungs,
As I writhe in the viselike grasp
Of those deadly fingertips.
Broken, I am reduced to powder
Just as dust returns to dust;
Defeat screams in my face as I am
Surrendered to the flames of strife,
Which consume my fear and weakness
Until only precious jewels remain,
Preparing me to conquer life.
Copyright © Tara Andre | Year Posted 2016