April

I trod a path made concrete By patience and virtue Nothing gets past the belly of this beast, That I could never subdue I wrestle with veins and arteries that choke Pour my cocktail over gurgling acids that flow Slide down the tubules with ciliary applause For there was self-proclaimed victory in a meaningful cause What could then follow but despair and defeat- That snuff the flames keeping shadows alive- For a maiden made weary by arrogance and envy All that remains is the stench of demise I trod a path made shaky By sickness and loss What more could be fearsome Than what is known not?