In fiercest battles and whirling winds
I pray the Lord forgive my sins.
The scars of my wounds, they tell the tale;
For those who are are blind, read my torment in braille.
My heart is sorrowful, and my boots are worn,
My clothes are tattered and my will is torn.
If nothingness then calls my name,
Will I relent or live on in pain?
In numbing irrelevance the seasons pass;
I care not less how long the winter lasts.
The spring will come, and the summer blooms,
But I will not know in my darkened room;
Many lovers have left after boastful claims
Of staying by my side to subside my pain.
At ungodly hours I may read love letters
Of twenty years past when things seemed better.
The loving nuances, and the promises made;
the plans we had, that in time did fade.
“I will love you forever.” “Sincerely yours.”
“Without you there is no life.” “It is you I adore.”
But to know my name is to know my pain,
And to know my pain is continuous rain.