O' My Convalescence

O' My Convalescence
By: Adam M. Snow

Darkness falls upon my essence,
Alone am I, miserable I feel,
Take me home, O' my Convalescence,
I speak with my breath, I steal.

From the pit of womb, I rest me head,
I wait alone, cold and dead.
Contemplate my very being,
Continues my way without seeing.

I wait my trimester, day and night,
Locked upon this old chattel.
I prayed with all my might,
And all seems but a prattle.

My body grows lame upon senescence,
But still no signs, O' my Convalescence.
Purge my heart and end my sorrow,
I regret my coming morrow.

End my pains, my foolish regrets,
End my nightmare, O' my Convalescence,
Manifest poignant of death's silhouettes,
And let it be, my final acquiescence.

O' where does my Convalescence lay?
Searched my chamber, night and day.
I cried the night the reaper weary,
Upon the morn, the day grew eerie.

The agonizing pain aches my heart,
Misery scourge, O' my essence,
This journey I must impart,
Alone, without my Convalescence.

Demented, I now may be,
Death has shown no mercy for me.
That elusive thing the soul,
Hath no revenge in it: as it is whole.

To be myself that is no longer,
Hope abandon as time grows old,
In need of a dream to monger,
As my fortune foretold.

Narrate my life before me,
It importuned to see,
My misery affliction,
Like staring in a broken reflection.

O' where be my Convalescence?
A journey to the far ends of the Earth,
Shattered and broken is my essence,
And I, fearing my never coming birth.

A birth to cease forevermore,
And the past behind me to bore,
Haunting me, O' my moon luminescence,
Abandon, O' my Convalescence.

What may be the chains upon me?
A burden upon life, now living.
O' My Convalescence now blind to see,
Or of itself a new misgiving.

Not only does it show,
How twilight cease to flow,
But the cowering truth,
Of myself now uncouth.

But I to be no longer,
Trapped in an infinity of realms,
And I, now a broken monger,
Seeks to find my helms.

To guide my vessel through life's course,
Through the journeys of endless bores,
Through the days and nights with bleak,
O' my Convalescence, the world I seek.

To find myself, born again,
And not be one, but two.
Atone for my many sin,
And things I never knew.

To patch the cracks within my dreams,
Widening the pass, so it may seems,
Lost, O' my Convalescence,
And be fate's obsolescence.

A journey's race against time,
To find my heart's key,
To be worthy again of your sublime,
And perhaps my day be free.

Such devilish things exist,
The evanescence of the morning mist,
The echo of my siren song,
The sour life of judgments wrong.

If I be guilty, hang me now,
Upon the gallows, oaken rot,
That it consumes my body, I allow,
Whether Heaven is Heaven or not.