Per Ardua Ad Astra II

I should have escaped before becoming my own prison,
A trap of breaks and doubt, rocks littering the riverbed.
I could have sailed away, cast off before the land became
A desiccated desert of sunken hopes like paper boats
Torn apart and scattered, a book of memories like this,
Plotless and pitilessly stark under a heavily throbbing sun.
Nothing but recovery, therapy, exercise and exegesis now.
No conquest, no river of gold – just small battles in a war
Of attrition, enemy always at hand, mirror faded by rust.
Even love is no comet in the sky, no wings of Mercury.
I love you and it breaks my heart, turns bones to ash,
Heart like ice, hunger infinite and unfed, stars gone dark
On the other side of a long, heavy curtain of adversity.

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