My love runs like blood through my veins
Nourishes and corrodes all the same
Talks of longing deep, and sorrows unfulfilled
In restless nights, and mornings bleak
My love labors like an ox in vain
Indomitably plows away
Deep, into the heart of this barren till
With a broken seed and an unbreakable will
In desolation, it flounders away
Till the last of its strength is sapped away
Dutifully it waters this wraith
Even if it plans to devour it
It seeks no salvation in suffering, so to say
Just feels that it is innate
A monument to this dying age
Lathered in sweet, sweet restrain
Like Atlas holding the skies at bay
Like Sisyphus rolling away
Finds the last semblance of its dignity stripped away
Cruel yet soft, in the gentlest of ways
A DESI MUFFIN 