Ever Simmering

Stirring a pot ever simmering,
To a fading sunset slowly diminishing.
Just another flame flickering,
To a set of eyes blindly distinguishing.
Biting the nail that keeps growing,
Fighting the frail that seeps slowly,
Into everything I can call whole,
A desperation I consider so droll.

Do you detest,
The way of life I possess?
So self impressed,
With A shortness of breath.
Closing in this time again,
Just to clean up the mess,
On a continuous level of stress.
Dressed with an unsatisfying caress,
Of death in motionless bereft,
Theft of oneself nonetheless.

Another hazardous waste,
Accepting to the bittersweet distaste,
Of light and day memories misplaced,
Projected through a false image of chaste.
Make no mistake,
Each wrong will be traced,
On the outskirts of your being,
Forging a boring soul interlaced.