Lost In My Troubles


Running this gauntlet, this gauntlet they call life
Ducking and jumping, and jumping and ducking
Missing the pendulum and dodging the knife

Till I come to the fork, going two ways
I have to choose, to go on my way
Both are guarded; only one pays

A darker, more dangerous path
Longer; more unpredictable than the latter half
Normally I would rather bathe in my own blood bath

But a large chest of jewels beckons me in that end,
Gold and silver, and rubies so bold
It’s only my life and soul, that is OH so cold

A brighter and easier trail
Less traps but still no maps,
I can not fail
Only fewer treasures for me to flail.

Where is my muse?
She carries my answers; my hopes; my dreams
I know her she can’t refuse to help 

Someone so lowly and humble as me,
“Where are you, you shape shifting coward,
You are never here when you’re in need!”

In a scornful and hateful manner
I throw down my armaments 
Tis all I can do 

I break down and crumble,
Defeat surrounds me at my feet
I am a man, a man none the less

I do what I can, I ponder,
 What will ever sunder my idle nature?
What is the point dodging the blade on the knife?
 

Brad Stohr