I feel like a person engulfed in a bog
With no inclination to take myself off.
The bog is alluring, drawing me down,
In ruthless persistence I'm bearing down.
No one can arrive for the rescue of me,
I am the one who could get out and flee,
I am the one who could get myself clean
Out of this mire, should I have such scheme.
No such scheme, I prefer facing risk,
I know there is nothing to hold me adrift.
The bog will entice me in perilous grip,
I'm falling a victim of dangerous whim.
My love is enticing and bearing me down,
I've fallen its victim, I'll never get out.
I'll stay stupefied and forgetful of mind,
I'd rather I perished, if that is my price.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2010
About this poem:Took out of old chest, blew off some dust and here it is.