Failed Wishes

The yearly line I chose to change course is a self-afflicted wound that bleeds each day, as I travel the universe that spins in darkness on its journey through the blackness of space a second, a year, does not matter if finding a reason to nurture my soul comes once a year, in the form of wishes to be met that are useless where reason is held far beyond the time I measure in the lineal thread of changing light until I measure a new year where the seed of failure is planted once again