Endless Ruin

​

I wish

I was given more

than unbearable pain:

a simplistic force

launching an inquisition

by my mind

on my soul

to reweigh its worth

after its value

wasn’t enough

for you to stay

 

a loss,

infecting my mind,

with the viral question of

“to what extent,

am I to blame?”

 

a stubborn thought,

a sickness,

imparted to me:

to walk through my mind’s Temple

and raze pillar after pillar

I deemed imperfect

and then some,

just to be sure –

rebuilding a church

on its own corpse

never content

with its form

always wondering

if it’s enough –

if its steeple

is finally high enough,

reaching ever-closer

to the sky –

growing on

ever-mounting ruins,

piling higher and higher

reconstructed

over

and

over

again