5 - MOAN

Here I place my words
Aching to my bones
And No Matter how I push
All they do is moan.

Moan as shuddering wood
Bending; warped by the strain
Too many thoughts in the attic
Flinching under the pain

The pain of loss without gain.

Swords of Symphony
Cut a Feverish Fantasy
A hereditary, primordial
Soup

Inherent altruism wrapping
A tap, tap, trapping
An epithet to a recluse.