Shredded in waters of despair,
The golden fluid wraps us there,
Flush it away, flush it away,
This well of souls we’ll disobey.
The mirror is guilt we all feel,
We’ll turn away that we can heal,
Once again we’ll come crawling back,
Our comrade errs will slowly crack.
Through all the flaws we’ll find a way,
To carry on each grievous day,
We resolute the goals we set,
To feel our purpose has been met.
Is there a meaning to define,
Perhaps it’s you who is divine,
Who will you be in years to come,
When you’re only recalled by some.
Introspective Poetry 