The Nature of My Woes

And though my woe

Is known even more so

And has grown with a frigid vengeance,

My heart still does beat,

Sending blood to my feet,

And forward I move, independent.

Now, that isn't to say

That my vision won't sway,

Or my knees never bend close to breaking,

But my lungs, they do swell

And I know very well

That I live,

And my world will stop shaking.

So if ever someday I cease moving,

Or my heart stutters out to a stop;

If the air all around me won't enter my lungs

I'll be buried, my woes overtop.