Descent

The petals wilt,
The plaster peels,
The weeds grow,
The soul pales
I am destined to always fail,
Remorse and regret are my fallen friends
Who remain with me in my barren den,
The air is stale ,the future blank,
I stare at the remains of the parched river bank,
The weeds they grow and engulf me all around,
My soul is a wasteland left barren and torn,
I am devoid of intellect and profound thought
I am in abeyance and await for a sign
For a charm
An escape route to take me away from it all
But I withstand and yield to the failures aplenty
And lie in defeat at the hands of the fates tyranny.