The Moanings of a Tired Soul

April 2, 2010
A fiendish wind growls at my bedside pane;
These restless dreams rattle my chains.
The silence mocks my disquieted head,
And what I hear leaves me misled.
I can escape the world, but not myself.
Who's ever heard of living hell?
Yet day by day, I die for constant fear
Of where I am, and why I'm here.
Have mercy on me, God--salvage what's left!
This slavish life's left me bereft.

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