The savage butterflies of discontent
flutter painfully in my stomach
eating away all serenity and joy
within my fluttering heart.
The ironmaiden of disharmony wraps
its steely claws around my content soul
and crushes it with a cold heavy hand.
My mind is strapped to the torturer's
rack and every ounce of clarity is stretched
into a pitiful piece of inarticulate insanity.
My body is pitilessly wracked with abnormalities
by the torturous fingers of abysmally morbid disease.
Leaving me to lie as a smoldering wreck of a man
within the shadows of the grave.
Donavon Scott Vinson