A cruise ship of pain,
among a sea of trouble,
saviors to cast a line,
despite the struggle,
alluded through my paper thin skin,
the wounds act as the ink,
which conduct my story,
a back drop to our former glory,
where I walk in my doubt,
trapped in this new age,
where the tallies are kept on the canvas of my mind,
despite the lines on the page,
where I dwell in yesterdays future,
not tomorrows pain,
recognition of knowledge is simply a display,
of a measure to cope,
just a meaningless pleasure of remedial hope,
provided by mental retaliation,
with my hearts quest of eternal hibernation.
