The Burden of Thought
The longer it ponders, the worse it becomes,
This present, familiar, like forgotten drums.
An eerie repetition sweeps the floor,
An echo of what came before.
The task at hand, bleak and dim,
An impending sense of doom so grim.
Nothing ever comes with ease,
This battle drags with no release.
The scars of the past claw at its mind,
Wounds unhealed, by time confined.
A path lies ahead, unknown, unclear,
A curse it must live, a fate to fear.
Endlessly trapped in paradoxical scenes,
Caught between what is and what could have been.
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