*

Mine dreaded heart crumbles when one speaks such wretched name -
a name that flows freely with no consciousness...
an obstinate shame;
sylllables which descend progression,
flitting blinds shut
&
whirling daggers straight back upon regression;
How of the past... creates consistent pain?
Would my saying 'it hurts', create words adhered towards reasonable change?
Let mine light peak beyond harsh clouded range,
sling entire self finally over depressed  peaks reign,
&
put to sleep unreproached rein;
one's morbidly serrated derange.