By K B Shree
I yell, I shout, I cry in vain,
To numb this visceral pain.
For there is nothing but to do so,
When your rebellion is meeker against The Great Flow.
Oh God, why do you make me suffer so?
Is it so hard to deliver a death blow?
From your mighty crossbow?
Vicious cycles come and go,
Leaving behind my unending hope for colourful rainbows,
And vibrant meadows.
I wait for the day my soul will overflow.
Aglow, with contentment and benevolence like,
Intoxication by Merlot.