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The Hermit

Grey shadows cast by fear and doubt,
Are weighty, dank, and threatening.
They hover just like thunder clouds.

So covered by the deathly shroud
Of freshly putrid memory
That filters this whole scenery.

At any moment, death could strike
The looming truth I know too well
Which gives my chest a constant fright
I must retreat into my shell.

The only way for me to quell
The pain that aches so stark 
Is hiding from both light and dark.

Alas, the greatest tragedy:
The hermit bathed in tempting sun,
Abandons secure strategy
To give the bliss just one more run.

The selfish joy grows steadier,
Just as my womb grows heavier.

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