Anchor. A poem.

The furrowed brow
The weight of my world
Bringing me low

My successes tarnished
Corroded by rusty deeds
And the lime of consequence

Troubled thoughts
Sail on a sea of responsibility
The waves toss and tumble

Almost as black as pitch
And sticking like tar
The dead weight of regret

If I could be saved
Would you extend a hand?
Or let me be smashed on black reefs

The wind is cold and hard
It whispers in my ears
A melody of darkness

The fire fuelled
And then brought low
By implacable resistance

Will I ever escape?
Will I ever walk again with head held high
Or will I be an anchor

And drag the depths forever

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