Thy Will Won’t Be Done.

My wrinkled face
is beginning to waste,
limp body, still hung,
on a squeaky clothesline,
that is tightly confined,
beneath a given thumb,
any part attached to me,
repeatedly gone numb,
neurons firing incorrectly,
missed the target,
subsequently,
my brain feels like,
a bowl of old pond-scum,
the day and night,
continue to come,
Hell or high water,
thy will won’t be done.

8 thoughts on “Thy Will Won’t Be Done.

  1. Pure… Perfect… I like

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Powerful & resonates so much. Miss you my friend. Xx

    Liked by 1 person

  3. So eerily powerful, my friend. I appreciate your candor and sharp visual images presented here and am saddened that the hurt has such a grip. Hope IS the only thing stronger than fear. And you are a warrior. X

    Liked by 1 person

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