Battlefield

I wrote about it to last me for years;
But it seems like time has stood very still.
It has cost me sanity drowned in tears,
And yet feeds, for it has not had its fill.
I haven’t been able to learn much from time;
In all, but pain, I have grown carelessly:
Like a teen, I still want what is called mine,
Like a sage, I still give in helplessly.

I wrote about it from blood of the heart;
There needs be some worthy credit to thought.
I wrote, I write, I writhe. It won’t depart
This wretched battle so very hard fought…
Every word here, ultimately, dies,
Before lighting any spark in your eyes.