No Rest for the Weary

No Rest for the Weary
By: Adam M. Snow

There's no rest for the weary;
all those times we were dreary;
and agony suffers evermore.
We are swallowed by time;
wanting to die;
all from tormented prime;
and the tears we've shed evermore.

We are weak, bounded by fate;
surrounded by, no love but hate.
There's no dream for the weary;
and all around the night grew eerie.
The sun falls in an endless abyss;
followed by all hope and bliss.

With nightmare following by;
we cannot help but to cry.
As Poe's raven cries nevermore;
we become more like a withered rose;
growing out of an open door.
There's no end for the weary;
as we see death even clearly.

We raise the gauntlet of raw;
to our suffering and flaw;
followed by our agony and tide;
to those who's trying to hide.
There's no rest for the weary;
as we ponder all that is leery.

We've been swallowed by lies;
in this time of demise;
being left dead but alive;
in this abode for peace;
nevermore will it cease;
in the minds of all;
as we continue to fall.

There's no hope for the weary;
with eyes so teary;
as we weep what we sow;
with our fears we bestow.
Now taint is our soul;
as we lie, buried in this hole.

With hearts full of dread;
we try to be one with the dead;
only to suffer more.
Now with uncaring eyes;
tormented and scorn;
we despise our demise;
and brake free evermore.

There's no time for the weary;
and those who are deary;
only to be tormented by glee.
We're not broken yet we cannot see;
our life beyond this narrow pass;
trapped behind the looking glass.

The mourners gathered to your delight;
to welcome your tormented night;
and by the moon the reaper weary;
as we lay to rest this time so dreary.
Go on now my wayward son;
and be free from all we've done.

Cut all your strings;
spread your new found wings;
and soar into the sky anew.
You're no longer weary;
no longer dreary;
now that you are free.